


Take This Chance: Let us dream

by BlueRam



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: AU, M/M, Post Young Justice Invasion, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-22 15:39:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 79,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8291188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRam/pseuds/BlueRam
Summary: The leap of fate; a myth...a legend of possibilities and wishes maybe? We don't believe in that though...at least I don't. I believe in reality, and making things right when I can. Dreams...please, there is no space for dreaming...dreams are but fleeting. It doesn't matter what anyone says, I've done away with dreams or fate, or both...after all, what's the point anymore. slash AU[Complete]





	1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Young Justice.**

**Warning: This story contains slash, characters may seem oc as they are from my own adaption and not that of the original creator.**

* * *

One fist after another, sweat rolling down his temple as each breath sounded a strange mix of laboured and even. Thuds echoed throughout the gym, fist tightening as they met leather filled with foam, the weathered bag straining under the force of each hit. Overhead the stark white lights flicker, the soft buzz of electricity almost taunting with each spark and flicker.

"I don't care! I don't!" It was a boy, maybe ten or eleven…no definitely ten, his spiky black hair slick with sweat, and vivid green eyes fierce as his anger rose for every new hit, his muscles straining under the abuse. The movement was so swift that you would almost miss it, a precise kick delivered with so much force that the punching bag swung dangerously from its chain, the leather ripping and releasing off white foam from its confine.

"I don't care what he says! I hate him! I hate him!" The boy shouted, furiously punching the bag away from him as it swung back with alarming speed, the whistle of wind crisp and sharp in his ear. The boy looked up at the dark viewing screen a little ways up the solid grey walls, he couldn't see anything beyond the dark glass, but he knew _he_ was there.

"You hear that! I hate you!" He shouted in frustration, a strange mix of emotions crossing clear green eyes before he looked away, hands clenched. The swinging chain of the punching bag squeaked, a back and forth sound that filled the silence of the room.

"I really, truly hate you." The boy whispered it was as if he was speaking to himself, the light flickering out in an instant, the punching bag still swinging. Nothing more was said after that, the sound of the gym doors hissing open, loud as the boy's footsteps echoed and faded away in the dark, the doors closing softly behind him.

"Bruce…you can't allow this to continue. He's breaking, and he won't let anyone in, he thinks he's all alone in this. Bruce-" Dick almost pleaded, masked eyes flickering to his silent mentor, the man's sight trained on the empty gym below.

"Bruce, just talk to him…I'm sure if you just-"

"You and I both know it's not as easy as you're making it out to be Dick." Bruce interrupted, his tone wasn't particularly friendly. Then again, he wasn't much of a friendly man despite the mask he put on in high society. This particular topic was a touchy one, and even saying that was putting it lightly. The relationship between Bruce Wayne and his… sudden bout of biological parenthood was a landmine waiting to go off.

"You don't believe that…it's almost as if you don't care Bruce! You're that kid's father whether you like it or not! He thinks you-" Dick shouted, anger colouring each word as he took an almost threatening step towards his father figure. He didn't even get to finish his statement before he was pinned in place by that ever cold gaze, eyes that he couldn't even see behind the cowl intimidating even now. He might no longer be the man's Robin, or just another kid on the young team, a full-fledged hero in his own right…it didn't take away the effect Bruce…no Batman had on him.

"I think that's enough Dick, you should be out on the field with Kaldur'ahm, not here try-"

"It's because he's her son isn't it! Damn it Bruce, when have you ever been this-" Dick interrupted but was so suddenly cut off.

"I said that's enough!" Bruce shouted angrily, his hands clenching so tight that the pull of leather sounded loud in the now still room. This wasn't the time or place to be discussing his relationship with Damian, amiable or not. If it was up to him it wouldn't even be an argument open for discussion. What he and Damian were… just was, he had long since accepted that. He didn't understand the boy, they didn't get along…he didn't even feel like his son, and wasn't that just a disturbing thought. It wasn't like the movies or those silly cartoons, where a lost child was reunited with their emotional parent. Instant love didn't blossom, or anything remotely positive even…there was more distrust than anything, confusion on the border and hesitance at the most.

In his situation, finding about Damian the way he did, actually meeting the boy and taking him under his…no, he hadn't taken the boy under his wing had he. They were strangers to each other, they believed in different things, saw the world through completely different eyes…they were strangers and he hadn't done a thing to bridge the gap.

Cowardice maybe, as loath as he was to admit it, anger…because he didn't ask for this. Damian wasn't supposed to happen, he severed all ties to Talia al Ghul. And yet, he was here…he had a son that wasn't planed for, a son that grew ten years outside his care, and new nothing but the hand of his wayward mother and cruel grandfather. A grandfather he in as sense idolized and aspired to become…the thought was concerning.

Dick glared before he tsked, looking out at the gym as the light flickered on, bathing the room in bright white light, the punching bag still after such abuse.

"He thinks you hate him, and the way things are, I can't even assure him that you don't. I'm leaving in a few months and won't return for who knows how long, Alfred is old Bruce…what will you do when it's just you and him?" The question though angered, held a great sense of concern.

"You don't need to worry about that." Bruce finally spoke after a long pause, his voice deep and so sure. Like nothing phased him in the grand scheme of things, the untouchable Batman. Robin couldn't help the bitter scoff, this wasn't anything new…the man was so emotionally stunted that it was bordering on ridiculous. If… if he hadn't made the choice to break free, he would have been this man's stark image…would have been the exact person his pseudo father was. Dick spared the man a silent glance before his shoulders sagged under the unimaginable weight that fell on his shoulders. This was made harder for them because Bruce wasn't a bad person, he loved in his own silent way…maybe a tad too distant, but it was something he had grown to accept.

Damian didn't have the benefit of being raised by the man, didn't understand why he acted the way he did…even he couldn't claim to fully understand why Bruce acted the way he did.

"You can't ignore him forever you know, no matter what you think now…Damian is your son. If this is how you're going to treat him…it would have been better if you had left him where he was…at least then he was marginally happy." Dick didn't wait for a response, already making his way silently outside the room. He had said all that he needed to, it was up to Bruce what the future would hold for all of them.

_"You're him right, I mean…you're Bruce Wayne and, you're my dad right? She said you were but I…"_

Bruce frowned at the memory, the down pour of rain so heavy he could hardly see, his hand pressed to the open wound in his side, blood spilling over his fingers dark and rich. A boy kneeled before him, hesitant but in no part afraid, familiar green eyes trained on the flow of blood. A small gloved hand slowly rested a top his own, before piercing eyes pinned him in place, asking again if it was him…if he was Bruce Wayne, the Batman…the man his mother said was his father. In that green gaze, he could see something like hope stirring…even through trained cold eyes. A question at the tip of a sharp tongue, that until this day he couldn't answer, wasn't sure he wanted to answer.

It was probably too late to answer at all if he was being honest with himself. He couldn't quite tell why his chest throbbed the way it did, or why it was hard to swallow at the thought.

* * *

"You don't have to do this you know." Neville muttered, a concerned frown on his face as he watched his friend haphazardly through clothes in the single large suitcase left open on his bed. Harry looked so tired, deep bags under his eyes, his curly hair tousled, just brushing his shoulders as a single brick red flower clip held his bangs to the side.

Ginny had given him that, had taken it out of her own hair and neatly clipped his bangs out of his eyes, playfully poking at Harry's forehead as he drowned himself in old tomes and crumpled parchment...anything to give him an edge in a war he could not escape.

Ginny had died weeks after, the castle laid siege by Bellatrix Lestrange and her fellow Death Eaters, all on the behest of their tyrant master.

"Neville, we've been through this already, I'm going…I need to go." Harry spoke firmly, the old Gryffindor stubbornness shining through, so much that he couldn't help but smile. The smile quickly left his face as he thought about what the man was about to do, a bundle of books tumbling to the floor as Harry hastily packed. He didn't even spare them a glance as he spun around and opened his closet none too gently.

"Harry…it's not because of him is it? You wouldn't leave because…" Neville trailed off, not sure how to broach such a touchy topic. At least, he thought it was a touchy topic. He watched as Harry seemingly sighed, pausing for a moment before he continued pulling clothes from their place. He was less frantic now, thinking something over perhaps, or…

"Blaise Zabini, hasn't anything to do with this I promise Neville. It was a long time coming what happened… I saw it, you saw it…everybody saw it." Harry let out a frustrated breath, hands trailing over the new knitted jumper Moly had given him, with her watery smile. It might have been a few years, eight to be exact, but the wounds were still raw even if they healed ever so slightly. The woman had lost much, her only daughter murdered in cold blood, her youngest son…Ron…oh Ron. Ron had gone down with a fight, protecting Harry with everything that he had, and shouting to Hermione to get him, Harry, to safety. Despite his protest and anger and fear, Ron wouldn't let him fight, he shielded him blow for blow, with the wild grin of battle across his face. He made him promise that he would come find them, that he would stay alive…Ron didn't find them, Ron hadn't come back.

Ron hadn't stayed alive

Bill was attacked by Grey back and not even a week after Fred lost his life, leaving behind a forever crippled George. Crippled mentally, forever institutionalized at St. Mungo's mental ward. He never much responded to the world around him, calling out for Fred as if the boy were still alive.

"He's getting married, at least that's the word from Draco Malfoy's lips. He almost seemed apologetic when-"

"Neville, let's not talk about that right now…please." Harry added with a sigh, closing the suitcase, the sound of the zipper loud in the tense silence. He sat atop the bed, the sheets rustling for every shift he made, until that too became still, and Harry seemingly sagged under the weight.

"Harry…" Neville began hesitantly, saddened by the state the man was reduced to. It was selfish of him to want him to stay, after taking such a blow, and seeing that man's face everywhere he went. If he could just deck the stupid arse he would be content, or accidently leave him in a nest of devils snare…the new kind he had bred. He was sure no one would suspect little old Neville Longbottom of foul play, even if he had long since changed from the once timid boy.

"I was a bloody idiot and that's it! Nothing more, nothing less!" Harry spoke angrily, twisting the plane silver band around his ring finger harshly, before pulling it off and throwing it none to gently on the nightstand. The ring tilted on its side for a moment, twirling lazily before landing with a soft click on the solid wood. Harry carded his hand though his hair, less chaotic than it once was with the help of Ginny, she had taught him some nifty spells. Oh how he missed her, how they could laugh for hours around a flame, poke fun at Ron and Hermione…Hermione that had gone off to Australia. Wanted to find her parents she had said…eight years to find her parents, they all knew she wasn't coming back. He couldn't grudge her that; pregnant at twenty then, knowing that the one you loved sacrificed his life to protect you.

Sacrificed his life even if she didn't want him to. He wondered if she went through with it...if he had a niece or nephew out there. Even through their sparse letters, she had shared little, and even though it bothered him, burned at his senses, he wouldn't push.

"So, America huh?" Neville finally spoke, his voice reluctant and defeated. He knew Harry needed this, but he honestly just wanted the man to stay in Britain, Wizarding Britain. Not America so far away, not muggle America.

"Yeah… there's this organization called Education for higher. I'll apply offering whatever skills I possess, and be chosen by a sponsor. The sponsor will help finance me through a selected University, providing that I apply and qualify." Noticing the dubious look on Neville's face, Harry rushed to clarify, face burning red from the implications.

"Har-

"It's not like that Neville! _Merlin no_ , I'm not trading…. _that_ for well you know…" Harry stumbled over his words, getting redder by the second as Neville simply stared blankly, his lips twitching.

"Neville!" Harry shouted, gently pushing at the man's shoulder as said man collapsed in laughter, tears streaming down his face as he sniggered under Harry's embarrassed glare.

"Fine, Fine! No sugar daddy business for Harrykins, you're pretty enough to be a sugar baby though!" Neville all but wheezed, dodging the not so soft punches Harry delivered.

Neville calmed after a moment, stretching out beside Harry, allowing the calming silence to take over.

"Is it going to be like that time again, when you got that bacheles in child care and development?"

"Bachelors Neville, and… to an extent. Last time aunt Petunia sponsored me; she was always happy that I didn't just forget her or the muggle world you know. Happy when I graduated too…she's sick you know, I don't want to trouble her with something like this, even if she wouldn't mind."

"It'll be a Masters this time, a lot more expensive, especially if I'm accepted at that top notch University." Harry muttered, falling back on the bed beside Neville, his suitcase being jostled for a moment.

"Studious Harry…who would have thought, not a dunderhead like Snape always sneered." Neville chuckled with a sigh.

"He used to…" He used to love my mum, he was about to say. Something he found out on the man's deathbed…something that wasn't his secret to share even if said man was gone. He deserved that much respect, as ambiguous as his feelings were concerning the double agent.

"Harry…just don't disappear like the rest of them. Please…" Neville sounded so saddened, like he didn't really expect Harry to keep that promise. He could understand the fear, almost all of their friends if not dead, slowly made their way outside of Britain. They may have rebuilt, but the memories, the horrors…they stained their world.

"You should take it, the apprenticeship Lord Boront offered. Getting out of Britain might do you some good." Harry spoke softly, worried green eyes staring at his friend who looked aimlessly at his roof.

"Hogwarts-"

"Will always be there, I just don't want you to hold back anymore. There's no reason to" Harry gently interrupted, touching Neville's shoulder.

"I know you only stayed because of me...go do something for yourself for once." Harry smiled, relaxing as Neville finally caved. The man was so loyal, so friendly...it was about time he be if only a little bit selfish.

"Gotham you said right? What a weird name." Neville mused, eyebrows scrunched up at the muggle name, completely missing Harry's incredulous gaze.

"Our Alma Mater is called Hogwarts Neville, nothing gets stranger than that!" Harry finally snorted, eyes straying to the simple silver ring on his nightstand. It almost taunted him, laying there without a care, as if all that it was did not mean a thing, calling Harry the bloody fool.

He wasn't running away, he really meant it...he just needed a break for a second. His world kept turning upside down like nobody's business...he just wanted to be steady for once.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Young Justice**

* * *

"Well that's it." Dick sighed, running a hand through his hair as he glanced outside. Evening had broken, the sky a beautiful mix of burning orange and red, subtle lavender almost wispy, as it curled around sparse grey clouds. He could imagine what the sun would look like, descending beyond the horizon, and its image shimmering atop the calm waves at the dock. A dock he should have been at thirty minutes ago, hopefully Kaldur would bear with him for a moment longer.

"Master Richard?" Alfred queried, noting the strangely pensive mood as the young man, never boy… lost himself to his thoughts. He winced lightly at the jolt of pain in his knees, a new addition to his growing health concerns. He had tried, maybe not desperately, for he was not the desperate sort… but nonetheless he tried without avail to hide is decline in health from the young masters. A futile endeavour, a thought proven when Dick looked at him in concern, a question at the tip of his tongue.

"None of that now Master Richard, its only nature, and I've come to accept that. Feeling sorry for myself never quite settled with me you see." Alfred smiled softly, his aged face holding so many mysteries yet to be unravelled. His tone as chiding as it ever was, enough to make you feel guilt even if you weren't doing anything wrong. At seventy-six, Alfred had served the Wayne family well…what little was left of it at any rate. It pained them…seeing the gradual decline of health, the thought that at any time he could shut his eyes and just never wake.

"I dare say you're doing it again Master Richard. Come now, you're acting as if I'm already dead, a thought I don't quite appreciate mind you." Alfred frowned, though amusement shun bright in as of this day clear blue eyes. Dick couldn't help the wistful laugh, he would surely miss Alfred, only he could be so blasé when his health came into question.

"I don't know if I'm doing the right thing Alfred, leaving like this when-"

"Master Bruce can take care of himself, he has done it for quite some time, perhaps not as graciously and refined without my aid, but quite masterfully none the less." Alfred interrupted, his tone brooking no argument as he handed Dick his jacket. Said man sighed at being shot down so easily, carding his hand through his hair…he really needed to get a haircut.

"They're going to rip each other apart aren't they?" Richard mumbled, pulling the strap of his duffle bag over his shoulder, the dark blue jacket hanging from his arm as he left his room, Alfred on his heel.

The man said nothing at first, a curious glance sent to the upper floor where a small figure watched from the shadows, Richard stare unwavering as he hesitantly raised his hand. He didn't expect Damian to return the farewell, and yes it was Damian, who else would lurk about the manor other than himself and Bruce? As expected it wasn't returned, the boy turning away as silent as he came, the soft click of his room door closing behind him, an echo in their ears.

"Oh ye of such little faith! Not a farfetched thought, but I surely doubt that Master Richard…If I may, you are late are you not?" Alfred drawled, as he gently gestured to the descending stairs, his actions having little fanfare. Dick shook his head in amusement and continued down the winding stairs, his hand trailing down the hard polished wood, the smell of pine bringing forth a rush of memories with every inhale. Gosh he was going to miss this place. Miss how he'd run around skipping steps like any other kid, Bruce watching him with amusement he thought he couldn't see… storming up the very same steps when Bruce forbid him from volunteering on that one mission he really wanted to join. Sitting with his knees to his chest, tears streaming down his face as he remembered his parents, remembered that they never would come back…and the man for once letting go and actually comforting him. If he remembered well, it was one of the proudest moments for Alfred, said butler on standby with an obscenely large stack of tissues and a litany of dry humour at his disposal.

"He didn't even see me off." Dick mused more so to himself than Alfred as the manor doors creaked open, the crisp scent of falling dew heavy in the air, crickets chirping quietly for now, back and forth, a strange conversation neither man could hope to understand taking place in that moment.

"Did you expect him to?" Alfred raised a curious brow, well aware of the young man's thoughts. Bruce was a strange figure, the way he did things were questionable at best, especially as the years passed, and he immersed himself deeper in the persona of the Batman. The current situation with Damian made things harder to an extent, the man more closed off than…no, that wasn't quite right. It wasn't that Bruce was closed off, or exceptionally cold, he just…

"Of course not, the day Bruce Wayne willingly says goodbye to little old me will be the day he admits that the reason he dresses like a bat, is because he has a phobia towards them. Conquer your fears and all that jazz…" Dick grinned, blue eyes alight when Alfred chuckled himself before straightening the lapels of his coat.

"I believe this is farewell young master Richard, do keep out of trouble for once. Between you, Master Bruce and now young Master Damian, I've amassed an obscene collection of grey hairs." Alfred's tone was bland as ever, his serene smile out of place and a touch sharp around the edges. It was moments like these Dick was forcefully reminded of who his pseudo grandparent was. Alfred Pennyworth, long since retired agent of MI-16, wise beyond years and very much still capable of giving the Batman a good caning across his knees.

Maybe he really shouldn't have thought of that, the image was disturbing enough to say the least, he subconsciously rubbed at his bum in memory.

"He's angry that I'm leaving, Damian I mean…maybe I should-" Dick hesitated, looking up at the wide windows overhead, watching as the dark drapes fluttered for a moment.

There wasn't much wind to shuffle the heavy fabric.

"You are the one thing quite familiar to him, of course he would be angry…at the same time it's neither your duty our mine to fix what has been broken between those two. Lay it to rest Master Richard, you're needed elsewhere…things will work out as they should in due time." Alfred sighed, patting the broad shoulders of his honorary grandson, watching as conflicted blue eyes finally stared into his own. With a nod, Dick turned away, the wind tousling his short black hair as he made the track down the stone walkway, the image of Bruce twirling him in the air as a kid vivid. At each step, the distance between him and Wayne manor growing, the image was replaced by a man conflicted as he gazed at the child who was his progeny. Bruce, whatever he did…he had better fix this, fix the wound that was on its way to festering before it was too late.

* * *

Harry huffed lightly, a strand of hair falling loose from its clip, the short lock obscuring his vision for a moment. He silently wiped at his eye, ignoring the burn of irritation as he tucked the lock behind his ear. Behind him the wheels of his suitcase clanked nosily, hitching on loose gravel as he made his way up the loan walkway of four Private Drive… a home of a sort for the first eleven years of his life. Nothing had changed, at least not at first glance, Mrs Poppet still peeped through her thin curtains; beady eyes narrowed, set in contempt as she made a show of 'minding her own business.'

Mr. Taylor still whistled that strange old tune as he mowed the lawn, the poor machine sputtering for every new blade of grass cut as the man kindly tipped his hat in greeting. He fancied himself a late century musician, an avid collector of jazz and blues, and a husky classic voice to match any old boy of the good days. A self-proclamation like any other, but none the less true. Then there was the lonely shed, a far ways from the suburb… an eye soar for most residents, perched curiously at the curb leading out of private drive. Behind it you could hear the cheerful laughter of school yard children and the taunts of immature bullies, the haunting creak of a swing set almost too loud in the neighbourhood.

It seemed ideal…normal, nothing to soothe the ever present yearning for adventure in his blood.

"Harry!" He was shocked from his muse, puzzled for a second, wondering just when he had reached the doors. The plain brown door was ajar, the golden number four slightly crooked, losing its shine over the years and showing more wear and tear than anything.

"Aunt Petunia…I came, like you wanted." He smiled hesitantly, if it could even be called that. It was a strained expression, his green eyes observing the obviously sick woman. She was thinner than he was used to, the skin around her eyes drawn tight, the pallor of her cheeks spotted with red splotches. Her dark eyes watered for a moment, emotional as much as she tried to contain herself, a damp dish rag held tightly to her bosom. Clearing her throat, she neatly pressed down the wrinkles of her floral dress, the smell of freshly baked pie wafting through the door.

"Why, where have my manners gone? Come, come…I've just finished baking apple pie, I'm sure you could do with a slice yes?" Petunia spoke hastily, urging Harry inside, the suitcase clunking over the door sill where it hitched. She casted a suspicious glance over Mrs. Poppet's window, the curtain closing quickly, an ode to guilt in that simple action.

Yes…at first glance Private Drive hadn't changed at all.

* * *

"Where's Dudley?" Harry asked curiously as Petunia puttered around the kitchen, her hands shaking as she neatly cut a slice of pie, the crisp crust leaving crumbs behind. The woman tensed at the innocent question, it was enough for Harry to frown in concern, wondering what he could have said wrong. His aunt had been acting strange for a while, insisting that he come visit if only once more. He had avoided the situation for a moment, as much as he had come to somewhat love his aunt, Private Drive wasn't particularly a place of happy memories.

"I should have done right by you, I honestly should have… but instead I took the coward's way out… and I guess this is my just reward." Petunia sounded tired, like the weight of the world was on her shoulders, before she placed a warm slice of pie before Harry.

"The moment you were placed on my doorstep I should have accepted you fully, but instead, I let jealousy and spite get in the way of better judgment…thirteen years before I could figure it out." Her statement was bitter, an obvious distaste for her past actions.

Silence consumed the two for a moment, the grandfather clock ticking in the way it always did, the wall paper leading to the living room peeling slightly at the edges. Inside wasn't as pristine as it used to be, not since he had left at fourteen to live with Ron and his family.

"Aunt Petunia I…I forgave you a long time ago, we've had our differences but-"

"I know love, just reminiscing…I'm glad that I could help you for once. You made me so proud when you walked across that stage, of course I just had to tell Mrs. Poppet what a shame it was that her darling Linda never made it across a stage of her own." Petunia's grin was sharp, old mischief in her eyes that Harry couldn't help but laugh.

The air was somehow lighter, Harry closing his eyes as the sweet taste of caramel and apple melted in his mouth.

"So what's this I hear about Gotham?" Petunia ventured, her eyes crinkling in amusement as Harry cheeks puffed out, green eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights, the fork dangling from his mouth.

"You know about it?" Harry mumbled around the fork, unashamed, a testament proven when he playfully stuck out his tongue at his put upon aunt. She could only shake her head in exasperation, marvelling at the site of a man that could go from serious to childish in the blink of an eye. A peculiar twenty-eight year old he was, he didn't look his age or act his age.

"Not much no, I do hear there's some lunatic dressed like a bloody bat of all things, flopping about at night on people's window sills and inserting himself in those poor police men's work!"

"A bat?! You're having me on!" Harry choked out, Petunia hastily moving from her seat to pat his back, a glass of water being pushed before him. For all purposes Gotham seemed quite the normal large city, the high crime rate non-withstanding. Men dressed as bats, now that was something…next Aunt Petunia was going to tell him Gotham had killer clowns or something!

"Have you on, I most definitely do not! And they have that killer clown too, ridiculous the madness that city attracts these days. A right circus it is, might even give your little magic world a run for its money!" Petunia laughed enjoying Harry's incredulous stare, a touch of curiosity and amazement terribly hidden.

Harry's smile quickly faded as Petunia began to cough raucously, her hand held to her chest as her eyes squinted close.

"It's ok Harry, it really is!" Petunia cleared her throat, hand put up to stop Harry from rising from his seat.

"Are you getting treatment?" Harry asked concerned, hands twitching in an attempt to stay his hand and not help the woman who insisted she didn't need it.

"A touch of diphtheria…I never got vaccinated. Two trips too many outside Britain, and I come back with a forever sore throat." Petunia huffed, speaking lightly of being sick, as if Harry wouldn't have been worried either way.

"Aunt Petunia-"

"He decided to go up south. He finally got a job after failing time and time again…it's nothing much but he'll make do." She finally answered his initial question. Dudley had gotten a job at last, he had struggled greatly through life…reality far from he had expected growing up the way he did. Even Petunia's change of heart couldn't change the path Dudley had taken under Vernon's careful tutelage. Vernon might have been a successful man in his own right, but his narcissism and feelings of entitlement proved his undoing.

"Everyone's leaving it seems, Vernon, Dudley…now you." Petunia smiled sadly, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of Harry's hair behind his ear. She couldn't help but stare into those green eyes, so much like her sister's. Oh how she regretted pushing Lily away, the last message from her sister… a simple letter declaring Harry's birth. If she had only...but she hadn't had she, not even at her own wedding would she let her sister take part. Never mind that she wasn't particularly fond of James Potter, her sister's potential husband.

"I'll be-"

"No you won't, at least not yet." Petunia spoke softly, pointedly looking at his bare hand, an action that prompted him to remove it from the table.

Silence overtook the two, the sound of Mr. Taylor's lawn mower spluttering out carrying through the room, along with the local school bus's arrival.

"I know what you're thinking…" Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair before he stood with his empty plate.

"Harry," Petunia began hesitantly, not sure if she should push him to answer her questions, or just let it be.

"It was amicable, you don't have to plot his demise like I'm sure you're doing right now." Harry teased, though it was half-hearted at best, she could tell.

"You've signed th-"

"Yes…it's truly…it's done." She could hardly hear him, the water turned on full blast before being adjusted to wash his plate.

"It'll get better you know, you'll find how easy it'll be to-" Petunia began hesitantly, not sure how to offer comfort and support, especially when she bore the guilt of relief on his behalf. She didn't get to continue before she was interrupted though.

"I've done away with dreams or fate, or both…after all, what's the point anymore? For me it always ends the same, Potter luck is exceptionally unlucky…" Harry muttered, said so nonchalantly, his first sentence a quote from the sappy romance novels he claimed he in no way read.

Wasn't he saddened in the least? Or was it just some strange coping mechanism?

"-besides I'll be focussing on my Master's degree. I think that's enough of a distraction don't you."

"Your sugar daddy you mean." Petunia grinned, Harry spluttering at the sudden turn of conversation, his ears bright red.

"It's an educational program, which requires me to offer my servi- No damn it! Not like that!" Harry rushed out, his face by this point supernova red as Petunia raised a curious brow at the spectacle that was her nephew.

"- sides I haven't been accepted by Gotham University yet, and I don't even have a sponsor!"

"Tell me Harry, how skilled are you in the bedroom? That Kamasutra book I-"

"Aunt Petunia! When did you get so-so, so you know- Merlin, you all are so-!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Young Justice**

* * *

Cold, wet…unforgiving, yes a perfect scene for the bustling streets of Gotham city. The air was heavy with washed up dirt and fuel exhaust, sharp to the senses and bitter on the tongue. Rain for days on end and the city hadn't changed much, people still filled the streets, umbrellas tilting and swirling as they bumped into each other, angry retort here and there. Petty thieves still snatched at women's purses and men's wallets, scampering to back alleys with their loot, whatever they could find in those precious simple treasures will help them for another week to come.

Criminals of circumstances.

"Knew I would find you up here. It's the view isn't it?" Flash muttered as he calmly climbed up the side ladder. His feet were a dull echo against the rusting iron, the light drizzle of rain sliding easily off his suit, a mixture of greys and black to better blend in with the forever dark Gotham City. It was unusual seeing the man so slow, a ball of energy on the best of days, never staying in one; place at a time…it was odd how two opposites could be remotely close friends.

"It's quiet…the cars still honk, these people still talk and crime is as it always was, yet…"

"She's changed." Flash finished the statement as he silently sat beside the Batman, his legs hanging dangerously off the steel perch of Gotham Central Police Station. Batman didn't respond, both of them cloaked in shadows as the man's cape rustled lazily in the wind, the sound almost like laminated paper being made a toy by a too amused kid. Gotham really had changed, it was still glum, still corrupt and stained that the average man couldn't hope to survive her touch yet… overtime…

Cars honked loudly in traffic, the revving of engines and the backfire of exhaust pipes nothing out of the ordinary as cab operators shouted after the other, rowdy teens in a hurry to escape the rain, wide grins on their faces.

"You're really going to do it huh? Hang up the cape and disappear like you were just a terrible dream. Like the Batman never existed…"

Flash grinned as he looked over at the silent man, his gaze never straying from the flashing red lights of police cars, seasoned cops hauling the newest law breaker by his arms, shoving him none too gently inside, and slamming the door shut. Their hands washed of him for the present, Commissioner Jim Gordon as serious as ever as he ordered his men to a new site, another heist a few streets ahead. Curiously, said commander looked up at their shadowed spot, his eyes squinting from the now heavier pour of rain.

"Heard that from Superman did you?" Batman drawled, a hand pressed to earpiece in his cowl, a shadow of a smile as he picked up Nigthwing's feed, the little bird really had flown the coop. He didn't need him anymore, wouldn't need him for years to come, having learned all that he could graciously.

Flash wasn't surprised by the shadow of a smile, he'd seen it maybe not as often, but enough to know that under that suit was a man that actually felt. For all the hype behind the man, the cold protector or standoffish snob, no one really took the time to truly see who this man was. They were ok with first impressions, ok with half answered questions, suggestions and implications. Not even Superman or Wonderwoman who claimed to know the man so well, saw past this man's mask.

Then again, he wouldn't have looked much deeper if it wasn't for that incident six years ago, when he found himself dragged in another timeline…or was that alternate reality. Seeing the things he saw, unable to lift a finger lest he disrupt his own timeline, doing the things he did…it left its mark.

It opened your eyes to what so many would overlook, opened your eyes to what many couldn't hope to understand.

"It gets around, me… I personally think you're just taking a vacation…well your version of a vacation. Do bats take vacations? I mean all they do his hang upside down like the little creeps they are." Flashed finished off confused, perplexed by his own straying thoughts as he scratched at his head.

"Not that you're a creep or anything! I mean grown men dress like bats all the time-I mean…well you know what I mean!" Flash spluttered, his grin wide as he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, Batman snorting at the spectacle as he turned off his headset.

"Aha! See, gimi a smile. I know you want to!" Flash cooed, hands grasping at the air as if indulging a child.

"Remind me why I put up with you again?" Batman drawled, standing silently before stepping away from the ledge. Jim Gordon had long since looked away from the two, addressing two young recruits that held on to his every word. With another silent glance, and a discreet nod the man entered his car and was off to continue and complete his job. The Commissioner had done his best to curb Gotham's lust for chaos and destruction, it showed how far he had come, Gotham.., she sang so softly of new life to come.

"Cause you wuvs me!" Flash grinned, his feet dangling childishly as he braced back on his hands to look up at the looming figure. Why was the man so damn tall? It really was unfair that if he should step out of his suit he would bear the same presence, if only a little more laid back.

A little.

"This side of you…you should let people see it more, Bruce." Flash sighed softly, face turned to the grey night sky, the rain having done its job and on its merry way. In a distance sirens wailed, soothing that he could almost understand the appeal of this city. She wasn't good, but it wasn't bad either…perfect in its imperfection, like her silent protector…almost.

"He hates me…funny thing is that I don't actually blame him." Batman muttered, pushing back his cowl, allowing the now ice cold air to brush against his heated skin. With and inaudible sigh, he carded his gloved hands through his hair, small pinpricks of rain drops almost freezing cold against his scalp. The rain wasn't as gone as they believed, given time the heavens would weep for Gotham city, its people an endless choir of not so much praise.

"Can't blame you either, Talia…she had no right. Look how Superman acted when we found Conner… and now this, a baby grown in a test tube without your knowledge…you have enough room to be iffy about it." Flash said simply, eyes scrunched up as noticed something odd in the distance. He wondered if Bruce would let him tag along, the situation out there looked interesting.

"It's not his fault, he didn't ask-"

"And you didn't ask for this either." Flash interrupted, finally facing Batman from his perch. The man gave nothing away, his expressions as unreadable as they ever were. A flash of lightning made for an eerie presence, the man's brown eyes almost unforgiving in their stare. He wasn't intimidated though, Bruce was just thinking, the fact that he may have a touch of resting bitch face was a non-factor here.

"-but the fact that you're trying to fix this…I mean come on you and I know that you don't do vacations. Damian isn't an easy kid to deal with, it's probably worse for you even, because that kid is a chip off the old block…a little more extreme but…" Flash trailed off with a shrug, dusting of his suit as he stood.

"It's Talia you don't trust…that kid, you want him…you can admit that much." Flash grinned watching the touch of emotions that not many were privy to. Even Nightwing, the sharp kid missed the signs sometimes.

"There's a disturbance near Monarch Playing Card Company." Batman muttered, pulling the cowl over his head before he launched himself from the roof of the GCPD headquarters.

"Hey! Does that mean I can come?" Flash shouted amused, understanding perfectly clear that he had stirred the pot so to speak, for the man that was his best friend. With a wide grin, he changed his suite to the crimson red he was known for, a flash of red and a streak of gold the only evidence that he was there. That, and his loud laugh that carried away in the bleak night. In an alley a cat meowed curiously, batting at the rotting remains of week old fish, shaking its puffed out fur before strutting on its way.

The sirens were still loud, and the rain was still falling…the smell of rust and grime still high and steaming chimneys spouted.

Gotham…it might be slow and steady, but she was different… _he_ was different.

* * *

The constant retching was loud through the open bathroom doors, the pale yellow light crept over the worn door sill to cast strange shapes on the peach wallpaper. Harry sighed tiredly, hesitantly tapping at the open doors before entering. He was getting used to this, waking at odd hours in the night to find his aunt slumped over the porcelain bowl, her greying hair loose and slicked with sweat, sticking to what he knew would be fevered skin.

"Aunt Petunia-"

"It's ok Harry, the mushrooms you see…they don't agree with me much." She smiled tiredly, the grey bags under her eyes deep and her lips chapped and powdery white.

"This is not diphtheria." Harry spoke almost angrily as he pulled a soft towel from its rack to soak in some cold water. Drops of water spattered against his night shirt, soaking in to touch his skin. He quickly turned off the tap, gently wringing the towel out before stooping before the weakened woman. Petunia protested half-heartedly as Harry gently dabbed at her sweaty skin, a small cup of water handed to her when he was done.

He helped her up quietly, his expression slightly angered as he slowly guided her to her bedroom. With a soft click the lights were off, Petunia slowly inching her way inside her now cold bed. Her eyes strayed to the empty space, her thin hand tracing a memory Harry himself could not see.

"Aunt Petu-"

"I miss him, he wasn't the best of men but…he was mine you know?" Petunia muttered softly, before glancing at Harry's unreadable expression.

"You don't have to say it, I know what you think. He wasn't the most welcoming even when-"

"It's not diphtheria is it?" Harry interrupted, his green eyes narrowed as he watched the woman become lost in memories, caressing the empty space with and absentminded smile. He wanted to shout at her, get angry in frustration…another reason he didn't much like to visit…a guilty thought. Petunia always seemed to lose herself to memories long past, bringing up uncomfortable topics even if he had lain them to rest ages ago.

It wasn't her fault…she was sick, but still…

"Oh! I almost forgot, your letter came this morning, it's in the nightstand. The mail man brought it when you left to look about that…" Petunia trailed off, not sure what to make of the last few words that would have left her lips.

Harry frowned, but let it go. She wasn't going to answer him, probably never would, the thought alone was saddening. He couldn't help her if she refused to let him help, he didn't want to live with that, but…he had to, at least for now.

He carefully opened said drawer, pausing for a moment at the yellowed paper that resembled parchment. It _was_ parchment, his mother's signature at the bottom in beautiful curled script, a far cry from his chicken scratch, he thought amused. He quickly bypassed the parchment though, fingers curling around the simple letter that would spell everything for him.

His humble ticket of distraction.

_Dear Harry,_

_Congratulations! Through careful deliberation you not only qualify, but is selected for admissions for the fall 2011 Post-Graduate Programme at the University of Gotham. We are confident you will make a valuable –_

"I got in…" Harry whispered incredulously to himself, Petunia's smile was indulging yet with a touch of sadness. If Dudley had worked hard enough, this could have been him as well. He wouldn't have to move south, so far away from her…the local university was of the respectable sort. There would have been no shame for seeking higher education for opportunities.

"I got in!" Harry shouted excitedly, green eyes alight in childish glee, the man doing a strange little jig as he waved the poor acceptance letter around. Petunia couldn't help but laugh out when Harry none to gracefully collided with the night stand, the poor lamp tilting over and snatched up in lightning fast reflexes.

He coughed in embarrassment, blushing red to the tip of his ears as he righted the unsuspecting lamp, it honestly could have never anticipated the attack.

"Excited to see him aren't you?" Petunia teased, plumping her pillow lightly, careful not to spare a glance at the empty portion of her bed.

"Huh?" Harry asked confused, she honestly didn't know how he could look so painfully innocent when he has been…

"Your future man of course!" Petunia laughed, watching as Harry fought to find words before he swiftly turned away from her.

"Ha bloody Ha."

"I bet he's roguishly handsome."

"I bet he's old and decrepit." Harry fired back with a roll of his eyes, never mind the fact that he had all but fallen into Petunia's little game of the sugar daddy theory. Harry raised a confused brow, he had planned to close the nightstand draw when an innocent orange prescription bottle rolled out of its place.

_ZYKADIA ceritinib 150 mg capsules_

"- only a request for a sponsor is left right? You'll be on your way to something calm for once."

Harry blinked a couple of times, trying to pick up their conversation, yet his eyes couldn't stray away from the strange bottle of pills…almost half empty.

"Yes…just waiting on my sponsor Aunt Petunia." He answered absentminded, closing the drawer softly before he sat in the offered spot with a bright smile, Petunia hanging onto his every word.

_What was Zykadia?_

* * *

Bruce hesitated, his eyes trained on the ajar doors, no sign of movement or life inside. He stood there for a moment, the sound of light feet with a distinct limp-Alfred-, two floors below, the gentle pitter-patter of raindrops on the asphalt shingles above him and that lingering smell of pine wood from his childhood.

_Bruce, let go sometimes. Don't let it consume you…I've lived through what happens when it consumes you._

Flash had given him that letter from his father, his stint in an alternate timeline eye opening to say the least. Until this day it was a secret they both shared, what could have been, what should have been…endless questions and answers in a never ending cycle.

He firmly pushed the door open, a terrible squeak that echoed down the halls. Damian didn't move, didn't do much of anything with the sheets firmly tucked under his arm, his back to the door.

Bruce said nothing, silently taking a seat in the arm chair facing the bed, the clock on the nightstand ticking in that rhythmic way it did, tic-toc, tic-toc, without an end.

It was like that for a moment, minutes, hours…no one could quite tell, and that clock continued to tic. Tic-toc, tic…the air a strange mix of tense and emotions neither of the two could possibly begin to contemplate.

"I don't hate you." Bruce muttered, eyes straying from the boy for a moment, the slow trail of water against the glass windows almost like small rivers. A part would branch in one direction and then another, a slow drip and steady glide till it faded in the window pane.

"No, you just don't trust me!" Damian bit out tartly, his hands clenched underneath his pillow, glare trained on the stupid window, with the stupid rain and the stupid thunderstorm.

Bruce snorted, it wasn't much amused…bitter if anything, as he leaned back in his chair, one hand folded under his chin as he looked up at the ceiling.

"He's right you know, it's not you I don't trust…it's your mother." No one said a word after that, Damian clenching and unclenching his hands as his green eyes stared out at nothing. His ear picked up his…father's… silent movements, the man carding a large hand through his hair. An action that should have been soothing, yet left him…

"Well I didn't know her! Not really…" Damian glared shrugging away from the hand before pulling the sheets furiously over his head.

Bruce watched him for a while, before he silently made his way to the door. For a moment he looked back, feeling the need to say something…to not just leave things as they were.

Not if he was going to fix this…

"Yes… I know." His voice carried a strange understanding, they couldn't go as far as to say acceptance, but at least-

At least a bridge was being built.

Bruce finally left the room, unaware when Damian pulled down the sheets to look up into the ceiling, his hand stretched out grasping at something.

_You're my dad right? Bruce Wayne…Batman…she said…_

* * *

"Tell me Master Bruce, have you ever heard of the organization Education for Higher?" Alfred drawled as Bruce stepped into his office.

"No…should I?" Bruce queried cautiously, weary of the twinkling amusement in Alfred's eyes.

The man only chuckled in amusement, his hands crossed behind his back as he looked out at the sprawling gardens of Wayne Manor, the slight drizzle of rain enhancing its mystery and beauty.

Bruce couldn't help but wonder what the butler was up to, his curious gaze trained on the three profiles opened on his desk. One specifically highlighted…Harry Potter circled in red.

Really…what was Alfred up to?


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Young Justice**

* * *

It was swift, the way he glided amongst the tall skyscrapers of Gotham city, the whistle of wind against his ear, the soft almost silent thud as he launched himself across roofs, the grappling hook ringing loud in the air before coming to an abrupt halt.

The cycle would start again; a loud hiss of burning high-tensile cords, the echoing flap of his cape bellowing in the wind as sweat dotted the back of his neck, heat rising against his skin for every twist and turn.

"Damn it, Damian!" Bruce hissed almost to himself, the crackling of a disturbed feed ringing in his ear, the sound of metal clashing against metal too loud, too telling…

He looked away for one minute! One, and…

Batman landed silently, his eyes trained on the scene before him, his thoughts came to an abrupt end. This wasn't what he expected, far from it actually…Superman had…

But when had he ever listened to what Superman had to say? When had he ever caved to the influences of a man like him? A man who preached gospel, but couldn't for the life of him understand how the world really worked, so stuck in the image of a peaceful reality. How quickly he forgets that peace could no more exist without chaos, the same way light could not exist without its shadow.

There was a reason why he and the "big guy" didn't get along, not much at any rate. They were acquaintances at the most, a voice of reason more so on his part at times…but never friends. Superman didn't understand why he did the things the way he did, as much as he would claim to understand the workings of the mind of Batman. He could never comprehend why he wouldn't just fold to the whims of the justice league, why he wouldn't secure there help even though he had never needed it. The truth was that he didn't need them as much as they needed him, as arrogant as that sounded.

He was a part time member if that much, he would help direct and somewhat train there young protégés…lend them and give access to his resources, at least to an extent. It was strange how he had almost single-handedly built the league's infrastructure and database, when he saw himself not so much a part of them, but more so just another thing he had to deal with.

"I don't understand it. Why do you let them live? It's not like they'll ever change…you're just wasting your time!" Damian glared from his perch atop Wayne tower. Below, night lights swayed lazily in the cold night, shadows cast upon a looming building blended with crisp white and blue lights. There was a crowd below, curious bystanders as the Gotham police secured the perimeter, officers fighting to restrain the raving form of the joker. He laughed hysterically as he always did, the wide grin stretching across his face, almost splitting it in half as he flicked his tongue against his yellowing teeth.

"What's the point of 'fighting crime' if you're only going to let them go?! People will only continue to die because you won-"

"Why didn't you?" Batman interrupted, his tone saying everything yet nothing in one breath. His veiled gaze was trained on the struggling clown…more than a clown his still mind supplied….as they fought him into a stark white straight jacket. His limbs flailed about, a wild action that took down many of his subduers, his stringy green hair plastered to his face as onlookers jumped back in fright, cell phones grasped firmly in their hands.

This was society now, slaves to the whims of technology, even in the face of danger.

Damian froze at the question, his gloved hands clenching ever so slightly before he released the tight grip. One single rain drop fell from the dark night sky, stained with eerie grey clouds, the moon fighting to peek from its hiding spot. It was ice cold against his tanned skin, spilling down his cheek before disappearing as if only a figment of his imagination.

He didn't answer, he couldn't…not really.

He had seen the disturbance at the watchtower, the scene played out on large monitors as he attended his usual counselling session with the blonde woman. She acted like she knew him, like she could make everything better! He didn't need to spew his heart out, or some other sappy crap like they all wanted him to…they being the stupid bunch of make believe heroes that thought they were actually doing the world some just deserved justice!

The jock of a hero… Superman, thought he had it all figured out, thought that he could fix him. Fix him when he couldn't even hope to figure out the workings of his would be son now demoted to brother… it sickened him just a bit how easily Conner or whatever he was called forgave the man.

Why would he just forgive?! Why would he entertain the idea of even working with the hypocrite, because that's what Superman was, no matter what anyone said to him.

It was just bizarre to him, didn't make any sense!

He was raised by a blood thirsty assassin, _not dumb_ …he didn't need to understand that Conner was an idiot and Superman got off scot-free

Please! These people…

They couldn't hope to understand this world, for all they claimed to be heroes and paragons of society, they didn't see beyond rose tinted glasses…at least, not all of them. The Batman…his father, he wasn't so much idealistic… he wasn't trying to change the world, not like the others…he wanted at most to ease the way. That much he could gather, even if he would never understand why a man with so much resources, so much skill…why wouldn't he just end it all?! Under his _mother's_ thumb it was kill or be killed. Everyman was for himself, unless you fought for the being that should truly rule the world, the being that would create the world a new in his own image.

Ra's al Ghul…his grandfather.

It was moot point now, Ra's al Ghul had been long since dead, a victim of his own ambitions in the end, and his mother… would be mother, had become the woman she had fought so valiantly against. She was ruthless and without a heart, people were mere tools to achieve her goals; her father's end-game…her son was no different from the easily disposed of pawns. He was conceived as a means to an end, nothing more…nothing less.

_You're a disgrace! How dare you break my heart so, I'll see you dead before you betray me, betray the House of al Ghul!_

"I don't kno- what does it matter anyway?! It's what you wanted isn't it?" Damian scowled, looking away as the hood of his shirt shifted in place, the edges swooping down to trace the tip of his black half mask, his face obscured mostly by shadows.

Batman said nothing at first, silence over taking the two as both still figures watched as Arkham wardens forced Joker inside the transport unit, Arkham asylum printed in peeling grey script across the off-white van.

"Perhaps you didn't because you understand…you don't want to admit it, because it goes against everything you believe in…or rather you're on your way to understanding." Batman supplied. Loose dirt falling from the roof, carried away by the gentle wind that would leave as quickly as it came, the looming man standing dangerously at the edge.

"Or maybe I didn't kill him so you would trust me." Damian muttered bitterly, he wouldn't be fooled. Bruce Wayne didn't trust him, much less the Batman…to be honest, he didn't even trust himself. He was raised to one day take down the Batman, to idolize his grandfather and aspire to be him.

He _wanted_ to be him, his grandfather, he had been precious to the man. It was funny, but Ra's al Ghul showed him more… as loath as he was to say it, more _love_ than Talia al Ghul. That man made him feel like he was a part of a family, like he wasn't just conceived to become a weapon, and nothing more, yet…

 _He wanted_ to be his father more, the man his mother taught him about, so powerful, controlled and skilled. A man that didn't give a damn about what others thought of him, that so easily fooled the masses to believe he could only ever be the billionaire Bruce Wayne, not a feared vigilante who could so easily destroy his enemies…yet did not.

A man that was lonely, purposely so…even when surrounded by so many who claimed to love him.

He hated his father! He hated him…but, he didn't.

He hated him because he made him want what he might never have. The way Bruce Wayne treated his ward…Richard, like he was blood. Raised him, actually smiled at him even if the other would miss it time and time again… would listen to him, comfort him…

Was proud of him, and was always on standby even now when Dick didn't need him so much anymore.

Talia al Ghul trained him well, made sure he would never cave to foolish emotions and notions of _love_. All that should matter was achieving ones goal, no matter who was sacrificed…be it your mother, your lover….your son.

He wanted what Dick had, what he got without even being the blood born son of Bruce Wayne…and he hated him, hated him for making him want it so much, yet always dangling it so far out of his reach…even if he didn't realize it himself.

"I have a project for you…a game really. Tell me Damian, how many worlds are hidden within our own…how many worlds are there, yet we can't see?" It was random, the abrupt pull from his racing thoughts. Not to mention Batman actually sounded amused, something that made the boy uneasy as he stared at the man from the corner of his eye.

"Is that a trick question?" Damian drawled unamused, he didn't want to be humoured! If this man thought that he could…

"You think too loud, do you know that? I won't say I trust you…but I meant what I said that night." Batman turned to face the child that was his son, almost unsure for a moment. So uncharacteristic of himself before he stooped on one knee, hand a breath away from Damian's cheek. Said boy's eyes were wide open in shock, not truly able to comprehend what was happening…unsure if he even wanted to understand it.

"I won't make you promises. I'm going to mess up I guarantee it, but…will you give me a chance?" He pushed down his cowl, serious brown eyes staring into the masked eyes of his son. He wasn't the Batman right now, this kid didn't need a symbol. Damian needed to stare into the eyes of the man that should be his father, he needed to look into the eyes of Bruce Wayne and see his own truth laid bare.

"Will you let me make this right? Help me make this right?"

Damian swallowed uncomfortably, he didn't know why he suddenly felt anxious, this was…was this really happening?

No, it had to be a trick! Or…or…

The man was just humouring him, he was an obligation forced upon him to begin with! He was everything he would never want in a son, he was sure of it… it's not like he was like Dick.

Even Alfred, that stupid old man that was…

Damian tsked before looking away, his expression mulish like any other brat that didn't understand what was happening around him, and was angry on principle.

"Heard you're given up the bat. What use are you if you won't protect your precious city anymore?" Damian sneered, he wasn't going to look at the man; he wasn't going to make a fool of himself like the man wanted!

He wasn't some blubbering buffoon that would fling himself in his father's arms, and then they'll race off into the sunset all of a sudden… as if all was well.

Bruce couldn't' help the small smirk as he retracted his hand, he saw the answer the boy wouldn't voice lest he sound weak. It was something he himself would have done. Deny, deny, and deny… you were only as weak as you let yourself seem he would have thought back then.

He had learned quite quickly that emotions as tiring and distracting as they were, did not equate weak.

"Who said she needs protecting? From here she looks independent and free…if she needs me she'll call. I needn't rush her, too overprotective, and she'll destroy you in a blink of an eye." Bruce fought down a grin at Damian's veiled look of disgust. It was strange how much of the emotions he had buried along the way, suddenly rose up almost overnight. He blamed Barry for this, and Dick with his subtle guilt trips.

"You're disgusting! You make the city sound like one of your cheap dates that the old man always complain about!" If it wasn't too much of a stretch, Bruce would almost say that was a childish whine from the boy he had come to realize was a brat. No sense of respect for elders, spoke his mind like nobody's business once you got him started…a chip off the old block.

"And hear I thought you were warming up to Blair." Bruce's tone was dry, almost like Alfred even, that the man couldn't help his amusement as he pulled his cowl over his head and stood.

"Yeah, warm up to her duck lips and porch awning for eyelashes, not to mention her air head niece with swiss cheese for brain." Damian rolled his eyes as he too stood, casting one last glance at the dissipating crowd below. Without a word he followed behind the Batman, before he was soon unconsciously instep with him.

"You didn't answer my question Damian, how many worlds are there yet we can't see?"

"Let me guess, you're the Riddler now!"

"Just answer the question brat."

* * *

**17 hours earlier:**

"Education for Higher is an exchange program of sorts for prospective international students. They have a sponsor system, where the interested party will volunteer to finance the chosen student in exchange for a service of sort, whether that be cooking, baby sitting-" Alfred listed he straightened the skewed books on the mahogany book shelf.

"I get the gist of it Alfred, but why are you telling me this?" Bruce muttered, flipping through the profiles idly, not quite able to hide his wince as a young brunette smiled up at the camera. A gaze that was meant to be sultry and seducing, an indicator for what type of services she was more than willing to offer for her 'education'.

"You're going on vacation are you not Master Bruce? That means more time invested in Wayne Enterprises, more time getting to know your son like it was meant to be. Bruce… I'm not as young as I used to be." Alfred finished gently, a subtle edge of hesitance and reluctance staining every word. Bruce froze at the simple truth that rang loud in his ear, Alfred dusting absentmindedly at the onyx vase that had once belonged to Thomas Wayne…a gift from his darling wife.

"Alfred?" Bruce ventured, he didn't quite know what to say. They had all seen it, the way the man moved sluggishly these days, the use of a cane where he had never needed one. The way he would stop short at aches that he wouldn't permit them to see, less they worry unnecessarily over him.

Unnecessarily in his eyes at any rate.

"You will need someone in my stead when I eventually step down Master Bruce. You may be surrounded by allies and friends, one Mr. Allen comes to mind, but still…you will need someone in your corner that stands only and forever with you." Alfred eyes glinted with a serious edge, his voice though low and aged as it had become, razor sharp and filled with intent. Moments like this Bruce felt like a child, being regarded with such a look that not even before him did it waver. Like his father…before he died…don't be afraid Bruce he had said.

"You're not serious." Bruce was almost incredulous, not that he would let it show. He held the profiles tight in his hands before harshly throwing them down. Perhaps harsher than he had meant to, as photos scattered across the table, a serious woman with pinned back blonde hair staring up at him with clear blue eyes. He moved towards the wide windows of his study, Damian below in the gardens practising his katas, a swipe of a foot here a precise strike of a hand there.

"My work, both you and I know that it could never involve civilians, especially ones like this from normal backgrounds, who couldn't even hope to understand-" Bruce began angrily, though his tone remained low, his hands swiping through his short black hair in obvious frustration.

"I'll assure you Master Bruce that I'm very much serious! With all due respect I've never been a fool, the schematics of this precarious situation is not beyond me!" Alfred interrupted fiercely, placing the vase carefully on its stand before regarding Bruce with a chastising look.

"Alfred-" Bruce made to protest, brown eyes glaring into unwavering blue, hand clenched tight.

"This was never something I've ever wanted for you! I pledged to your dear father that I would keep you safe! Protect you from this horrid world and the equally vile people in it!" Alfred clenched his fist tight, watching the shock of emotion that so swiftly crossed Bruce's face. The way his brown eyes wavered if only for a second, a dry swallow as his hands slowly uncurled from their tight fist.

"I'm not a child anymore Alfred. I was never a child, not after Crime Alley, I don't need you to protect me, not then…and certainly not now at thirty-five." It wasn't said to hurt, they both knew it. It didn't stop the sharp pin prick in his heart, hearing those words come from the boy…no, man that he saw as his own son.

"Nevertheless, I worry Master Bruce…especially with young Master Damian, whether you accept it or not, you'll need all the support you can get." Alfred pushed on, his mouth set in a grim line.

"A civilian Alfred? You want a civilian to take your place." Bruce counted every word, trying to make sense of it all…trying to understand why someone as intelligent as Alfred would suggest something so ludicrous.

Alfred cracked a small smile before he silently reached over, picking up the profile he had highlighted in red. There wasn't a picture, not like the rest…the file wasn't even the most filled with accolades or pointed to great skill. Yet…

"Master Bruce, how many worlds are there yet we can't see?" Alfred queried almost idly as he flipped through the thin file, humming thoughtfully at the list of achievements and heartfelt recommendations.

Bruce frowned before silently taking his seat once more, eyes trained on Alfred as if by just a glance all the man's secrets would be revealed. He couldn't help but be intrigued by Alfred's past, he hadn't pried…wouldn't ever pry, he respected the man too much for that. That being said, he was curious….Alfred was once an agent of MI-16, and agent that played liaison between the Congress of the United States and the Crown. To imagine the things that this man knew, as far as his own reach was. His experiences, the roles he played and the deeds he had done…it was exciting, but he would never ask.

"A simple question Master Bruce, how many worlds are there yet we can't see?" Alfred smirked, noticing the veiled excitement behind curious brown eyes.

"You're talking about MACUSA, how do you even-not even I could get past that red tape! And let me tell you there's a lot of red tape!" Bruce narrowed his eyes, his hands folded under his chin as he studied the too amused man. His blue eyes were glittering, almost mocking as they held over his head the exciting new toy he couldn't reach or dare touch.

"A society hidden within a society, the Magical Congress of the United States of America. A prickly bunch, if I do say so myself; paranoid with good reason, exercise the utmost secrecy that is necessary, claws sunk into who they see necessary."

"Why are you telling me this though? Aren't there repercussions, you were once an agent of the-"

"My loyalty will always and forever lie with you Master Bruce." Alfred interrupted before opening the profile in front of Bruce once more, his finger spotted with the mark of his rising age, pointing at the name 'Harry Potter' circled in red.

"He'll be my replacement, I'll have no other. This Harry Potter, a half blood born of pure blood and No-Maj born. A wizard of wizarding Britain, with ties to the MACUSA." Alfred silently stood, a serene smile on his face.

"A man who can hold a secret, can protect himself, draw strings to protect you even if you don't or won't need it. A man who in time will give you access if you're still interested, to the last red tape you could never cross."

"But most of all…someone who will be loyal to you, whether Batman or Bruce Wayne…I won't have to worry when my time does draw near."

Bruce traced the letters of this mysterious man's name, the one who would be Alfred's replacement, yet didn't even know it himself.

"Will he agree?" Bruce finally sighed, dropping the doc in almost defeat as he looked up at the too sly butler.

More than a butler, his mind supplied.

"Probably not, after all the point of this trip is for him to get away, to relax for once…a lucky thing you're on vacation then isn't it Master Bruce." Alfred drawled before taking up his discarded duster and leaving the office without a word.

"Lucky." Bruce's tone was dry before he glanced outside his window, Damian flipped off a high tree to land neatly on his feet, stance ready for a fight that wouldn't come.

It was small…but he think he had a way to show the boy that he was capable of trusting him. Harry Potter was trust worthy as far as Alfred would tell him, it didn't mean he wasn't curious. He was on vacation, what better way to entertain himself than to find out all he could about his mysterious soon to be helper.

"Harry Potter, it will be nice to know you." Bruce smirked, already thinking about the files both he and Damian could route up.

* * *

"Your permit sir!" Harry almost startled at the lazy drawl, having zoned out for a moment, the drowning sounds of people and suitcases became much too loud. Overhead something dinged and rang, flight changes being announced, delays and departure times.

"Sir, under the 9th century MACUSA legislation, section 7c- the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, you are required to register and validate your wand permit." The permit officer was visibly annoyed by the delay, a string of women and men lined up awaiting their turn.

"Right, sorry about that." Harry managed a tired smile, the officer must have seen something because his glower visibly softened. Harry handed over the card, eyes flickering to the sign ahead that at first read 'customs' only for the word to warp to wizarding checkpoint.

The United states were quite different from Britain, he had learned that years ago, yet it still amazed him how strict their policy and regulations were. A permit something that many in wizarding Britain could not hope to understand.

"Welcome Mr. Potter, everything seems to be in order." The officer smiled before allowing Harry to be on his way.

"And Mr. Potter…thank-you." The aged man said simply before bellowing next, curious wizards peeking his way a moment before ultimately minding their own business. Harry only nodded before pulling his suitcase behind him, the mechanical doors hissing open, a gush a warm air caressing his skin.

In a distance he noticed a neatly dressed man, elderly…with a sign that held his name, without a word he cautiously approached the serious looking figure, eyes straying to the obvious luxury vehicle for a moment before finally staring into wise blue eyes.

"Mr. Wayne?"

"Ah, Harry Potter is it…I must say, you look awfully young for your age." Alfred grinned, blue eyes alight with mischief as he took in the sparkling green eyes and pouty red lips.

He might have lied, Harry wasn't going to be his replacement, not really; he wanted him to be so much more, a beautiful mind, loyal…aesthetically pleasing. A pity Bruce wouldn't realize it till it was much too late…a pity this innocent young man didn't know what exactly he had just walked into.

His head tilted curiously, curly black hair barely touching his shoulders….so innocent.

The poor thing, there was no escaping once he had signed that contract.

Yes … what a pity, Alfred thought amused, carefully hiding his grin and mischievous glittering eyes as he graciously opened the car door for the young man.


	5. Chapter 5

"Alright fork it over! You owe me fifty old man!" Damian grinned as he threw down a heavy docket on Bruce's desk. Outside the secretary giggled in amusement, her eyes twinkling as she watched the business tycoon look up quite bemused, a pen held mid-air, and files fluttering helplessly to the floor. She didn't dare linger, quietly closing the doors as she made her way back to her desk, a stray hair tucked neatly behind her ear.

She could admit that she had feelings for her employer, deep feelings. Bruce Wayne wasn't just any type of man. In the early years of his career he had struggled, fresh young man losing his family, not yet grown and still wild. Their society had written him off, an airheaded playboy that only knew how to flash money and get what he wanted. There were even rumours that he didn't even control Wayne Enterprises back then, just a pretty face without the skill or intellect of his late father.

How wrong they were.

Bruce Wayne is a playboy…was a playboy, he was very much skilled, and as sharp minded if not more so than his father. Where Thomas Wayne was a king fish in the sea, a successful medical doctor and philanthropist…Bruce Wayne was a Great White a true business man. You didn't see it at first, he was kind and given.

Kind and giving until you became the enemy. Kind and giving with his shark smile and steady eyes. Beyond them a world that they couldn't hope to understand…that she didn't understand, as much she wanted so desperately to. He was unreachable, untouchable, his brown eyes would ever so slightly glance over you, a passing thought that faded as soon as his back was turned and he continued to live his life…an impenetrable wall.

At least to the likes of her.

That boy…Damian, she didn't care what people whispered, what those top shots sneered…he was Bruce Wayne's son, biological son. And if Bruce Wayne had a son, then that meant someone got behind his impenetrable wall, someone that no one knew about…someone who was definitely not _her_. It was pretentious and arrogant, but she had hoped that after so many years working for Bruce… never Mr. Wayne in her mind, he would have looked her way. The veiled glances, his strong hand at the small of her back…how he radiated heat like a furnace…she wanted him. She was pretty enough, red hair honey eyes and a supple figure. She was talented, educated and she was sure she could navigate the high society with ease, being his chosen date more so than any other for official business conferences.

She wanted him.

To be on his arm…in his bed, his lips against her skin, in his mind…in his heart.

"- llen, Ms. Allen!" The woman startled from the sharp call of her name. She blinked owlishly to see Mrs. Thomas holding tightly to her clutch purse. The woman had a pinched look about her, her greying hair pinned in a tight bun and her collar neatly buttoned up to her neck. Mrs. Thomas never once approved of her, silly misguided girl she had hissed to Bruce, advising the man to not hire women from _her_ lot. She had been rightfully offended, what did the woman mean by _her_ lot. She was hardworking, had a good head about her, so what if she wanted Bruce! It wasn't the old bag of bones business, she couldn't wait for the day she could throw it back in the woman's face, that she Roselle Allen, had married Bruce Wayne!

That she was raising his son alongside him like the good mother she would be...never mind Damian Wayne seemingly hated all the women associated with Bruce Wayne.

"If you're done fantasizing! Do let Mr Wayne know that his meeting for five has been cancelled." Mrs. Thomas drawled, looking down her nose at the silly girl before she promptly spun on her heel.

"Wa-Wait! Mrs. Thomas! Why is his meeting cancelled?!" Roselle stumbled over her words, desperately pulling at her short skirt that had ridden a little too high as she moved from behind her desk.

"Mrs. Thomas!" Roselle huffed in annoyance, catching up to the woman as the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime.

"If you must know…it seems Alfred has gone to collect someone quite important to Mr. Wayne, his fiancé perhaps?" Mrs. Thomas drawled, her eyes alight with savage amusement as the doors closed in front of the shell shocked woman.

"F-Fiancé…that's a lie! Bruce isn't…" Roselle muttered to herself helplessly, before shaking herself out of her stupor.

"That woman's always out to get me! This isn't any different. Besides, if Bruce was getting married I would have known!" Roselle hissed before stumping to her desk. She sighed before slumping in her seat, the sound of the ac humming in background, and the crisp clean scent of the empty floor invading her senses. She looked over at the closed double doors once more, of course she couldn't hear what was going on, but still…

When would Bruce ever acknowledge her? She could make him so happy, she could help as he continued to build his empire…she understood him.

Why couldn't he see that?

With a tired sigh, Roselle began to change the man's schedule, it seems he would be free for whatever reason at five.

* * *

"Fifty." Bruce drawled amused, an eyebrow raised as he examined the simple looking docket. Damian huffed as he crossed his hands over his chest, scowling from the muffled laughter he could hear from Bruce's phone. It seems Dick was online, he obviously had interrupted more than paperwork for the man.

"You asked me how many worlds were there but we couldn't see. The answer is one… just one. It was tricky at first, you could have meant out of space for all I knew." Damian muttered annoyed as he none too gently flung himself in the comfortable seat in his father's office. It wasn't extravagant, not too much at any rate. The walls were panels of crystal clear glass, not that anyone could see inside. The office was wide and imposing, the furniture sleek and befitting a bachelor of his rank. To the side there was towering shelves of books, almost like the study back home, and then further down a discreet room that more or less lead to a bathroom.

Practical, with the right edge to catch an eye but not overly showy.

"Oh?" Bruce smirked, placing the docket gently on his desk before crossing his hands under his chin.

"It's the use of words, I'm not an idiot Da-I mean, there are many hidden society's among us. The civilians wouldn't know but we do, we can see them. There is one world though we can't actually see…the Wizarding World." Bruce didn't bring up the kids near slip, his heart strangely had jumped for a moment when Damian so casually…well almost uttered that word. He didn't realize home much he wanted to hear it, even though he knew they were nowhere near that point yet.

"You got to give it to the kid Bruce, it sounds like he pretty much won!" Dick's amused voice sounded over the speakers. Damian of course looked quite smug about it, leaning back with his leg thrown over the arm of the chair.

"Fifty bucks tops!" Damian almost grinned, watching as Bruce leaned against his leather chair.

"Five tops!" Bruce smirked, his tone smooth an eyes alight in amusement at the twin cries of outrage.

"That's unfair!"

"Come on, Bruce!"

"Five tops. I could have found this information a few hours the most, the same you probably took if I'm not mistaken Damian. Besides…that wasn't our deal."

"Forty tops, no contest!" Damian glared, hand slapped against the polished Cherrywood.

Bruce leaned forward, glaring into Damian's eyes, though amusement shone through more than his mock seriousness.

"Five tops, take it or leave it." Bruce all but grinned, poking Damian's forehead playfully.

"Come on! I did what you said!" Damian groaned, looking more like the ten year old he was. Before he huffed and looked away.

A right brat he was.

"Bruce, you did-"

"Harry Potter. I bet you couldn't find anything of substance on him before me, which was our deal." Bruce interrupted before Dick could get his brother all riled up.

"What's the point anyway, the moment he steps foot into Wayne Manor you'll find out all you need to know and send him on his way!" Damian muttered.

"Is that defeat I hear? Dick do you hear that, the kid's giving up!" Bruce grinned, watching as Damian's eyebrow twitched violently, green eyes glaring at him in no part amused.

"Thirty tops and I'll give you what I have." Damian renegotiated, glaring at the phone as Dick began to laugh, fighting desperately the twitch at his own mouth.

"Ahhh, so the boy knows how to negotiate, you're my son still yet." Damian was taken aback with the ease the man could say that, with how open he was in this moment. So different from the growling Batman that was forever cold. It was like he was finally getting a taste of who his father was, a weird throb in his chest and sweaty palms he couldn't explain.

It was like he was on his way to soaring, like he did many a nights with the help of a grappling hook, silent in the dead of night like his mother had taught him.

"This magical society or whatever, he's someone important. Not like a president or a chief official but…he did something and because of that he has links in high places." Damian offered mulishly, it's all he could find. He didn't even have a picture to tell what this 'Harry Potter' looked like. The only thing for sure is that he didn't want him here, no matter what the old man said. Something smelt fishy, and he could bet this stranger wasn't here to fill the butler's place like he said. Bruce might have trusted the old man, with good reason too…it didn't mean he had to be blind to how sneaky said Butler could get.

He was…he was just getting to know his father, felt like he belonged or…whatever.

This Harry Potter, with his access to whatever red tape Bruce Wayne couldn't cross would take it all away from him!

"- to go at any rate. It's pretty hectic on my end, not to mention how weird Raven and Star's been acting lately." Dick's voice trailed into his thoughts, Damian barely able to catch the end of the conversation.

"Trouble in paradise?" Bruce drawled as he took up his pen to continue writing, a concerned glance sent Damian's way. The boy had zoned out for a moment, didn't even realize when Bruce had offered him fifty bucks like he had planned from the start.

"Bruce! You know…I think I preferred when you were a closed off slab of concrete." Dick deadpanned, though it was obvious he didn't really mean it.

"Goodbye, Dick." Bruce drawled before shutting the phone off, eyes trained on the silent ten year old.

"Damian?" he ventured cautiously, whenever it got like this, the tenseness and silence, things always went south fast. At first they seemed well on their way to a true father son bond, and maybe they were, it didn't change the fact that a lot was still left unsaid.

Talia…she was one of them.

"Why's MACUSA so important anyway. I doubt that _civilian_ will just tell you everything you want to know because you're pretty." Damian sneered, though his heart didn't really seem into it. He fiddled with the ends of his jacket, looking anywhere but at his father, missing the flash of concern.

He should have thought of this, Damian…he saw Harry's arrival as yet another stranger laying claim to what he himself shakily possessed. He thought he would lose focus, forget him in the long run.

The fact that it wasn't so farfetched made the sting hotter.

"It's not important per say, it's just a missing piece of a puzzle if I hope to truly claim to understand the inner workings of our country." Bruce muttered, eyes staying outside to strangely empty streets, one and two cars passing by, and the sun bright in the sky, not a cloud in sight.

"I don't get it! He's British how could he-" Damian began angrily, sitting ramrod straight as anger pulsed through his veins.

"What is this really about Damian?" Bruce interrupted smoothly, his features unconsciously closed off, cold as his hand clenched around his sleek black pen.

Said boy glared, looking down at his leather shoes, high end like all his clothes were, yet never flashy or stained with the wealth of old money.

"If you can't-It doesn't matter anyway, I'm outa here." Damian muttered, changing the topic so quickly when it was obvious he had meant to say something else.

"Damian!" Bruce called out, watching as the boy made a hasty retreat.

"Just drop it already! I said I'm outa here!" Damian shouted as he furiously pulled the door open.

"You start school tomorrow!" Bruce pushed on, they hadn't even gotten to discussing everything, and with this sudden change of mood; they would get nowhere anytime soon.

"I'm not going!" Damian glared, that was the last place on earth he wanted to be. He didn't care if the man was retiring from hero duty or whatever, it didn't mean he had to as well. He didn't want to be surrounded by snot nosed brats, and preppy teachers with plastic for smiles. Talks about the perfect family, with their stupid airhead mothers and posturing fathers, white picket fences and two or three children.

"Dami-"

"Stop trying to control me!" Damian shouted furiously, stopping Bruce in his tracks before he swiftly left, Roselle staring curiously; her lip worried between her teeth.

"Bru-Mr. Wayne?" She ventured cautiously flinching from the storm of emotions as he brushed his hand in agitation through his hair. He scared her like this, how he became closed off with intense anger, the way his knuckles would whiten from his tight grip as he gained control of himself.

She…she was a good match for him right?

She could handle a man like Bruce Wayne, soothe his hurt and pain…his anger. It's not like that trusted butler had disapproved of her.

She could-

"- a call to Alfred. I'll be home sooner than five it would appear." She barely caught unto his words, watching as the man silently closed his office doors with a resounding click.

"Ah-Right away, Bruce." Roselle muttered softly, already picking up the landline to pass on the message.

* * *

Harry sighed as the wind tousled his hair, the curly strands catching in his eyes and teasing at his cool neck. It wasn't as hot as he thought it would be, then again, it was the end of august. Temperatures were dropping at a snail's pace, but you had to admit the sweltering summer heat was fading. Harry took a deep breath, the air surprisingly clean as they past crisp green forestry, it would all change he knew though. As soon as they touched the city roads, the windows would be rolled up, air conditioner turned on and wipers wiping away grime from the wind screen.

"So…Harry, may I call you Harry? What brings you here to Gotham other than the obvious, which is your education?" Alfred smiled, blue eyes sparkling as he watched the young man visibly startled from his voice.

"Mr. Wayne…" Harry began but was cut off by the old man's wide grin, as if there was some unspoken joke being played that he didn't quite grasp. He was annoyed he would admit, he didn't like not knowing what was happening, or worse didn't like if said joke was being played on him.

"Alfred dear, we will be good friends for a while yet, wont we?" Said man grinned, casually flicking on the indicator as they turned right on the crossroad.

"A year…I'll be here for a…where are we going?" Harry trailed off suspiciously, green eyes flickering to the sign that faded quickly in the side mirror.

_Gotham city 5 km southwest_

"I'm not a psychotic serial killer, don't worry." Alfred drawled lazily, the safe lock triggering as he smirked.

Harry's eyes widened, his thin fingers wrapped around the door handles as he pulled desperately.

"Do take care pulling those handles, they were quite a pain to get fixed the last time."

"Last time!" Harry shouted, heart hammering wildly as he scooted to the side of the door, his seat belt released so he could make a hasty retreat.

What kind of psychopath did he get himself involved with! This was worse than that crazy bat person his aunt was telling him about. Oh Merlin! He was going to get raped! He was going to get raped by a sick old man, in the middle of nowhere and he hadn't even gotten to try out the hundred pound pizza yet!

Right…priorities Harry, priorities.

Alfred lips twitched as he made another turn, the low hum of the old tune on the radio soothing, and only terrifying his prey even more. Harry Potter sure was a comical being, he wasn't at all like the war hero he thought he would be. In truth…it only made his plan more perfect. He wondered how Bruce would handle this energetic young man. Hopefully not too well if he was honest…he had to get his entertainment from somewhere.

"Who are you and what do you want!" Harry glared, hands already itching to release the wand strapped to his arm. He was sure the American auror would understand if he accidentally eviscerated the old man, he could say his hand slipped or something…

Or something…

"I'll be most upset if you draw that wand of yours Mr. Potter. I have two unruly children to deal with, I needn't add you to my list." Alfred was one toned, dry and completely unaffected by the shock on Harry's face, his wand hanging limply from his hand at that point.

"Y-You kn-" Harry stumbled over his words for a moment, nothing was making sense. This muggle, how did…he was a muggle right?

Merlin, did he just break the statue of secrecy in one full sweep!

Come on! He just landed for crying out loud! Potter luck wasn't supposed to be this-this-this- _unlucky_!

Bloody hell!

"Mind you, I'm always in the know when it comes on to who I potentially hire for Master Bruce-"

"Master Bruce?!" Harry interrupted, having the mind to blush at the disapproving stare he got for his rudeness. Blimey! It was ridiculous how an old man like this scared him just an itsy, bitsy tiny bit.

_Really just a tiny bit!_

"Yes, Master Bruce…. Mr. Wayne one in the same." Alfred gave Harry an amused glance, watching as the poor thing spluttered in shock. This was truly entertaining, imagine what fun he would have when the two found out it was a setup!

"You're not Mr. Wayne!" Harry shouted, green eyes wide and just not understanding what the hell was going on. Forgive him if he was just a bit confused, he went from thinking he was going to be raped by an old man, to said old man knowing about magic to him not actually being Mr. Wayne.

Merlin, only he could get into these messes without actually doing anything! He was sure Neville was somewhere out there laughing at his misfortune.

That toe rag!

"It seems homework is not as important as it was back then. After all there couldn't possibly be any hidden benefits for completing it. You are attending Gotham University are you not?"

Harry scowled lightly before replacing his wand to its holster, staring outside; watching as the greenery became thick, looming trees that arched on each side of the road, providing a beautiful tunnel. He imagined the air would be crisp fresh if he rolled down the windows, alas with the safety lock armed, not even that was readily available to him.

"You know about magic." Harry stated softly, tired really. Jet lag was setting in, not to mention he had his little freak out for the day, he was ready to be calm and level headed again.

Not act the fool for the old man's amusement…what was his name even?

"Alfred Pennyworth, but I would be most pleased if you would simply call me Alfred." Said man smiled, placing a gentle hand on top of Harry's own, watching as suspicious green eyes pinned him in place before looking away with a slight nod.

"So magic…does Mr. Wayne-"

"Yes, he knows. You'll come to find that there isn't much that man doesn't know, quite talented and gifted. I'm sure you will both get along, discuss many things, become-" Alfred paused, fighting a grin as those accusing eyes glared at him.

Ahh Harry knew something was up, he just didn't know what, how cute.

"What do you want from me? You know about magic, I'll go as far as to say you know exactly who I was-"

"You mean still are young Harry. It's like our contract stated, you are here for your education, you will provide a service and Master Bruce will fund your tuition and any other such need. Education for Higher yes?"

Harry frowned, he had a gut feeling that this Alfred was up to something, and it had nothing to do with his education. He wondered if this 'Master Bruce' was unto it too.

"How do you like bats Young Harry?" Alfred almost chirped, turning into the driveway of Wayne Manor. A random question as he spied one of the secret underground tunnels that would lead to the Batcave.

Harry didn't answer, eyes opened wide at the beautiful architecture, so much history in one glace of the sprawling gothic structure, and multiple gardens with such rare flowers.

"Ah, it seems Master Bruce is home. I'm sure you'll be as delighted to meet him as he is you." Alfred finished smoothly, watching keenly how excited Harry seemed to be, almost a childish innocence as he looked this way and that.

"Merlin! Are those chocolate Cosmo flowers?! But they're so rare!"

Alfred felt even better watching the young man, as he scrambled out of the car to get a better look at the flowers as soon as the safety was released. Curly hair pushed behind his ear as green eyes brightened in wonder, red lips parted in excitement as the slim figure stooped closer to the flower that caught his eye. They would make a good match, Bruce needed more innocence in his life than the call of blood lust and dark spells his previous lovers were. The fact that Harry was a man was just a minor obstacle, he'd make sure Bruce would have no choice but to adjust his taste and preference.

With Harry's looks it might not be so hard, Bruce was always attracted to pretty things, and Harry while definitely masculine enough to never be mistaken for a woman, was quite pretty.

"They smell like chocolate Alfred! Can I-"


	6. Chapter 6

"Ahh, you wouldn't find chocolate cosmos in the wizarding world would you. They are rare in our humble society, I can only imagine your delight…you're fond of horticulture perhaps?" Alfred asked with a slight smile as he dutifully closed the car door, the trunk hissing open as he made to remove Harry's luggage. Alfred frowned when he didn't answer, looking towards the kneeling man, noting how still he was, the tips of his fingers barely brushing the delicate flowers.

"Harry?"

"What am I doing here Mr-Alfred? You said Education for Higher right? In my contract and I do remember correctly, you would take me to the Gotham University where I would be registered and admitted for boarding on campus."

"You seem more focussed Mr. Potter, I expected it really. I had thought you would-"

He felt like a cold bucket of ice-cold water had been thrown on him, the fog in his mind still pretty much there but the smell of chocolate, rare flowers and Neville's grin…

What the hell had he been thinking, he so easily let the heavy topics slip by, a muggle knowing magic, the fact that this man wasn't Mr. Wayne and the fact that at this point he wasn't where he was supposed to be. And throughout all this, he still couldn't think clearly, couldn't reason like he wanted to, because something felt…well maybe not wrong or dangerous…just off.

Yes…he didn't think he was in danger. No, as muddled as his gut feelings were, they weren't screaming at him…not like when Voldemort had set that trap for him, not like when Blaise had...

"I'm still jet lagged, I can't think right now, I feel lost and like I'm missing something. No, I _am_ missing something, but it's like I can't find the energy to care…I should care." Harry muttered almost to himself, gently rising as he ran a frustrated hand through his curly hair. Even now, being so open to Alfred was a telling sign of how tired he was. He wouldn't claim to be a closed off person, he was extremely open when he wanted to… one of the many things Blaise would always scold him for…like he was a child.

Alfred didn't say anything at first, he didn't think he should, watching as the young man rubbed at his bare ring finger; the pale band almost blending into his smooth skin as green eyes looked and saw nothing.

That's right, Harry Potter had been married hadn't he. At least according to his contacts, whatever happened to his relationship was anyone's guess…no that wasn't true, there were speculations. The fact that Blaise Zabini remarried even as the divorce was still being settled amongst their lawyers…was telling.

"Who are you Alfred Pennyworth? Why do you know magic, and what is it that you want from me? It might be presumptuous, but I have a feeling you're the one who truly chose my profile." Harry spoke softly, he wanted to sleep he really did, he wasn't up for mind tricks and unsaid words. He just wanted to rest in his dorm room at Gotham University and worry about if he had a roommate or not. Overhead the trees were a soothing chorus, an endless rustle as he tucked loose strands of hair behind his ear; not that it would help much. The wind so cool against his skin that goose bumps rose, his body shivering; green eyes looked unwavering into blue.

For a moment Alfred would admit that he felt guilty, his actions though for a good cause were purely selfish. He hadn't been considering the young man's wariness, his plight…how he wanted to get away, whether it was from his seemingly broken marriage or just for something else. It was a testament to how far he had come that even knowing this…

"Mr. Potter-"

"You called me Harry, why the sudden change?" Harry sighed barely stifling a yawn, before silently pulling up the handle from the suitcase Alfred had taken out of the car. He had noticed how the man had winced momentarily, age maybe or sickness. More likely age he would wager as he watch determination bleed into bright blue.

They both silently walked up the cobblestone walk way, the wheels of Harry's suitcase bumbling noisily into the spaced grooves, the gardener looking up curiously, his hat tilted on his head and sheers wide open in is grasp.

"Mr. Alfred sir! Mr. Wayne just arrived earlier, he didn't look pleased about something! I bet it's about-" Said gardener shouted, craning his neck as the two passed, eyes so intensely focused on Harry that he felt a just a tad uncomfortable. As much as he was used to being stared at, it didn't change the fact that it still bothered him.

"That's quite alright Tomin, I'm well aware." Alfred interrupted smoothly, gently guiding Harry to continue their walk, discreetly shielding the man from the gardener's curious eyes.

A bit too curious.

"You asked me who I was Harry, it's as I said; I am Alfred Pennyworth, I just happen to know about magic… MACUSA more so than any other, despite my British background." Alfred's answers were prompt, proper even, with his tone as he gently held unto the latch of the imposing double doors, a roaring lion knocker on each side with what looked like a silver snake wrapped around its muzzle.

"But still-" Harry frowned, looking up at Alfred's shadowed features, the sound of shears snipping away at shrubbery, rhythmic…almost, in his ear. He wasn't ready to let it go yet, what he needed answered wasn't being answered, that annoying nag of a feeling in the back of his head wouldn't go away, he was sure if his scar still hurt, it would be throbbing now.

Either that or he was tired.

"There's nothing to worry about Harry, you have my word. Your contract is as it was, if only for a minor difference." Alfred smiled as he pushed the doors open.

"Minor difference!" His head was spinning now, it really was. What minor difference, why wouldn't Alfred just tell him what he was missing!

Or better yet, why hadn't he just apparted out of this situation since it was bothering him so much!

Oh, right…American license, he didn't have one yet.

"Alfred…I wouldn't go as far as to say minor" a somewhat amused voice cut in, deep, almost rumbling…like silk covered steel the way it so easily jarred him out of his frantic thoughts.

One look…

Slow…

Steady…

Unwavering...

It was like time for just a moment…

A moment….

Time stopped.

"Ah, Master Bruce….I believe I said five didn't I. It's half past three." Alfred drawled, the double doors closing silently behind him, the sound of shares fading, and cold gave way to warmth.

* * *

"Damian!" Bruce shouted, knocking furiously at the closed door that wouldn't budge no matter how he swivelled the knob.

"Da-"

"Just leave me alone!" Damian's angered voice was muffled behind the wooden door, the sound of rustling sheets loud to his ear in the empty hall. He probably pulled the sheets over his head like he would always do when they got in an argument.

"It's already decided! You're going tomorrow whether you like it or not; if you want to act like a brat then so be it!" Bruce growled, his hand fisted against the door he could easily get through, but didn't dare enter. Damian…he was a moody kid, he probably already messed up simply by deciding to push the issue, but still; The kid had to go to school, if they even wanted to attempt a chance of normal…they had to try normal if they were going to fix their relationship right?

A small voice in the back of his head said he was wrong, that his whole approach was wrong, but that couldn't be right. They had made progress, they talked more, the kid laughed more…he almost called him dad even. It's not school that was the issue he would even guess, it was the fact that some stranger was invading their home… _Damian's_ home. He was possessive, a trait he himself shared that could scare many people… made them suspicious of him.

The fact that until this day he didn't want the Justice League separate from Flash in Gotham, in _his_ city was telling enough.

"Are we going to talk about the real issue here, or are we going to continue playing this game!" Bruce glared at the door, his hands clenched tight at the continued silence.

_"_ _You asked me who I was Harry, it's as I said; I am Alfred Pennyworth, I just happen to know about magic… MACUSA more so than any other, despite my British background."_

Alfred was here, he didn't even hear when the vehicle drove up, so focussed on Damian and whatever the hell he did wrong, that they were back to the everlasting tension that was fading so quickly over the weeks.

Maybe it hadn't been fading at all…a false sense of security.

He didn't do false sense of security… or failure.

"Dinner's at seven! If you-" Bruce sighed in agitation a strong hand carding through his short black hair, windswept in its cut, before his son's angry shout interrupted him.

"I'm _not_ a kid! Just leave me alone!"

If it wasn't immature, he would honestly roll his eyes at how bratty the kid was; at times it was hard to believe that this was a boy trained to be a weapon and nothing else. That this was a boy Talia raised…or did she even raise him at all, they hadn't gotten to that conversation yet.

At this point they probably wouldn't.

One last glare at the door, Bruce made his way down the flight of stairs that would lead him to the receiving room. His leather clad feet echoed for each step he took, the picture of his smiling mother, blonde hair and blue eyes fading into the background as the stairs spiralled.

Was accepting Alfred's offer a good idea? With Damian and…was crossing the last red tape that important that he would risk the relationship…

_"_ _There's nothing to worry about Harry, you have my word. Your contract is as it was, if only for a minor difference."_

Really, Alfred wasn't reassuring anyone with that tone, and by the slightly hysteric edge to Harry's voice, he assumed it was Harry, the man must have pulled a classic Alfred on his way from the airport.

He watched as the doors slowly swung open, Harry protesting lightly, a hitch in his breath, soft…ahh he must be jet lagged.

Without much prompting, a slight tinge of…well something, he casually leaned over the railing, a slight smirk teasing at the edge of his lips as someone shuffled forward.

"Alfred…I wouldn't go as far as to say minor." The door closed behind them, two figures, one much shorter… slight almost.

Green eyes….vivid green eyes, almost natural with their pull…almost like _hers._

* * *

His first thought…

And wasn't that just sad, pathetic…weak…

His first thought was Blaise.

This was Blaise, and for some reason his chest throbbed painfully, the light almost invisible band around his finger itched, and his breath hitched silently.

They didn't look alike, not really…this man was too tall; too muscled, constant workouts maybe?- his shoulders broad…strong he could see. There was an ease in which he so casually leaned over the banister, the first few buttons of his shirt open, a strong neck, tan hands folded under his chin. Wind swept hair, strong jaw…

Not stiff…Blaise was stiff.

Eyes…brown eyes, that stared as if they saw everything, all his truths laid bare…he didn't like it…deep. That presence about him, something there he couldn't see…elusive, a buzzing in his ear, instinct warning that this man…no this mask might not be so real.

Or maybe it was, and it was the blood of a shark he smelt, hooked on a scent that peaked his curiosity, yet he wouldn't open the door.

No…the door would stay shut, hyper aware as he was, a painful hand squeezing at his pumping heart…amicable… it was _amicable_ Harry.

He and Blaise… why was he thinking about _Blaise_? He was in Gotham now right? Education for Higher and his Master's. Boring days and equally boring nights on campus like he should be.

This wasn't Blaise, no two sharks were the same…no, pureblood Blaise was a pup in light of what his instincts screamed was a Great White.

"I believe you will take it from here Master Bruce?" Alfred drawled, hands clasped behind his back as he stood ramrod straight. His expression gave nothing away, the excitement bubbling under his skin unnoticeable by anyone…or maybe not so unnoticeable, as brown eyes narrowed and flickered to the elderly man.

"W-Wait, but-" Harry hated himself for stuttering then, those deep brown eyes swiftly pinning him in place again having lost focus for a moment. They didn't blink, elegant hands, long fingers tapping slowly against polished wood, a drum after another for each slow descent. Something was there in those eyes, dislike maybe…he didn't know, couldn't quite tell, he felt... out of depth. The funny thing was he hadn't done anything, and here he was being stared down by deep brown eyes. He was tired, confused and about to be left alone with this…this… _Master Bruce_.

"Don't be silly Harry, we after all established that it is I who is the psychotic rapist, and yes you did say that out loud." Alfred drawled with a curious eyebrow lifted as Harry had the decency to blush, a situation made more embarrassing by the amused not so much laugh ahead as, Bruce was it ?-made his way down the wide staircase.

"My name's Bruce Wayne, your sponsor for the foreseeable future, and you?" Smooth, his voice was smooth, like dark chocolate, melted dark chocolate with a teasing of a sharp edge…like Blaise, Harry couldn't help but frown, eyes trained on the hand held out for him to take.

"Harry Potter…but you already knew that Mr. Way-"

"Bruce, call me Bruce." Bruce interrupted as he gently took the handle of Harry's suitcase, the touch of fingertips against his chilled skin, a subtle touch that had Harry staring in confusion before releasing the handle to the man. Brown eyes staring, why was Bruce Wayne staring? A shadow of a smirk, the precursor of his mask.

Fake…not fake…or in between.

Neither realized when Alfred walked off, an accomplished air about him yet, a dulled vase taken from its spot to be cleaned and returned.

* * *

Harry rubbed at his eyes, they felt crusted in sand; an unpleasant feeling as one of his long lashes fell into the left one. It was like he had been climbing the stairs for an eternity, his ever silent sponsor barely paying him mind, except for that strange stare every now and again. Did he mention how tall he was, that even now a hair's breadth away from him, that the heat from the man's body seeped into his own, he felt dwarfed.

Dwarfed in his silent looming presence…like Bla-

"Your finger, is it bothering you?" Bruce asked as they made it to the east wing, the same wing his own room was on. The thought alone made Bruce frown, that strange glint in Alfred's eye-

"Your ring finger, you've been rubbing at it for some time, and the skin has even gone red." Bruce supplied at the confused stare, ignoring the initial protest as he held the man's hand in his own. He would not admit, but something of a shock went through him, like an odd pause you couldn't quite explain…

Soft…his skin was strangely soft, and just a tad cold…almost dwarfed in his own, a sharp contrast of snow white against rich tan.

Unlike _he_ r, never like her.

How strange this hyperawareness…skin against skin….warm.

"Mr. Wayne, why am in your home? I should be-"

"It's like Alfred said a minor difference, or major depending how you look at it. You'll be staying with us…with _me_ , for as long as you are a part of this program." Bruce smirked, he was amused, watching how that pale skin flushed in annoyance, green eyes ready to spit fire but too droopy to do anything but blink owlishly for the moment.

Not waiting for an answer he let go of Harry's hand the skin dragging against his palm, a tingling feeling as he got few step ahead before the man seemingly woke from his daze.

"Y-You can't do that!" Harry shouted catching up to the-the, the _infuriating_ man. Why was he always smirking, and bloody staring and….was that amusement!

"Oh, and pray tell why _I_ Bruce Wayne, multibillionaire owner of several businesses and a man who walks shoulder to shoulder with the best of politician can't get a piece of paper changed to his liking?!" His smirk was shark like now, Harry was just too easy to rile up or maybe it was the jetlag. What was Alfred thinking, whatever he was thinking; Harry didn't have a chance.

"You're an arrogant asshole!" Harry glared, almost colliding in the man's back as they suddenly stopped before a slightly ajar double door. He gasped when Bruce so suddenly leaned down, brown eyes staring into green, so close that he could smell the lingering traces of cologne, expensive cologne.

"Careful Harry _dear_ , I'm still your sponsor remember." It was wicked his expression, a taunting smirk that Harry had to desperately fight the need to add a bruise to that pretty face of his.

"Your roo-"

"You're not my sugar daddy and I won't be having sex with you!" Harry shouted only to slap his hand over his mouth mortified. He wish the damn floor would just open up and take him now! He always said stupid things when he got angry, and boy did he get angry often.

Silence consumed the two for a moment, Harry steadily turning red as Bruce refused to look away from him, his eyebrow raised slowly before that damnable smirk spread across his face.

"I'm not? And here I was plotting the best way to take you this night. Missionary or BDSM? Personally I'd go with BDSM, I already have the chains in our bed-" Bruce couldn't help it, he honestly couldn't. The more he spoke the wider those green eyes became, he was practically swaying on his feet.

"I'm joking." Bruce deadpanned, shaking his head lightly before he pushed open the doors fully.

"Your room." When he didn't get a response, he couldn't help but look over his shoulder. He almost snorted at what he saw, Harry stood wide eyed with his hands twisting in his shirt. Yes, definitely jet lag, he had a feeling that come tomorrow Harry would be asking the serious questions he _should_ be asking.

"If it's any comfort, I'm not actually interested in men, and no I'll not be tying you up to have my wicked way with you as healthy as my sexual appetite is." Bruce drawled deadpan, watching as those green eyes finally focussed a dusting of red against his cheeks.

Obvious embarrassment…was this really Harry Potter, war hero as he had gathered from his 'research'

"R-Right." Harry muttered, slapping at his cheeks comically for a moment before entering his designated room. He was acting like an idiot, letting the arrogant asshole, maybe he was being unfair, get the best of him. If he just got some sleep, he would be back to his old self and make sense of…well whatever there was to make sense of.

The room…it was cosy. Mind you it still spoke of wealth, old money with its rich canopy bed, oak it thought, looming drapes, thick and silky cream, pooling to the floor and fluttering in the gentle wind. Shelves, towering shelves for books…already filled with books, and round lights, embedded in the ceiling and dimmed…warm, cosy.

Bruce watched as the slight man looked around curiously, placing the suitcase just a ways behind the door.

"So…psychotic rapist?" Bruce couldn't help but tease, holding his hands up in a comical gesture of surrender as an angry Harry none too gently pushed him out of the room the room _he_ owned.

"Good evening, Mr. Wayne!" and with that the door was none too gently slammed in his face. Bruce only shook his head as he stepped away from it, and made his way down the darkening halls, the lights been switched on as if in response to his unspoken command.

The open pleasant persona seemingly bled from his face, a cold visage and an air of seriousness about him as he made his way to 'Alfred's' kitchen.

His replacement he had said…

I'm getting old spoken with such care...

Beautiful crafted words of truth and misleading.

He would be a fool not to see it.

Harry was innocent, even if a little darkness lingered in his gaze…sharp clear emerald gaze, red lips…sweet, too sweet.

Like the woman he had once thought he loved and understood. The woman who he didn't love he came to realize, but shared such raw lust and longing… at least back then.

Harry was pretty, maybe a tad oblivious and just a bit silly. An unknowing chess piece on Alfred's board, a queen trying to capture his king.

It made sense now, the insistence…Harry from what little he gathered in his presence was all Alfred had ever wanted for him.

Apparently the fact that he was a man didn't matter, that Bruce was only ever attracted to the fairer sex, would probably only be attracted to the fairer sex if pass experience were telling.

They had been set up… too bad he wasn't about to sing to Alfred's tune of old, he had his reasons for still accepting Harry in his home, and perhaps soon a part of his team.

The red tape of what he knew as MACUSA

His plans unfortunately for Alfred would not involve some love story, with them running off into the sunset, white teeth and all even more blinding than the sun.

No…romance, even as peculiar as this setup was, the potential lover so far from his actual taste…no romance would not be allowed to bloom here. Alfred had miscalculated…Harry Potter would become his assistant replacement for Alfred should he accept, nothing more…nothing less.

Romance, please! What was the point anyway... it was for fools...he had been the fool.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Young Justice**

**Characters may or may not appear oc as they are from my own adaption and do not follow strictly the characterization of the original works.**

* * *

"Alfred, you're out of your mind if you think-"

"Pleasant evening Master Bruce, tea perhaps or a cup of coffee? I imagine you've had a long day." Alfred interrupted smoothly with a raised eyebrow, said hot beverage balanced on a silver tray.

" _Alfred_." There was so much emphasis on the simple name, not quite growling or even a hiss, Bruce respected the man too much for that. The man that had played his part of father, cared for him when no one else would, respected his decision to dedicate his life to precious Gotham that bled blood throughout the night.

"I'm not a fool Master Bruce, it's a given that as soon as I would have made the proposition you would instantly reject it." Alfred drawled as he turned his back to the man, the tray was placed safely on the shelf before the kitchen tap was turned on. It rushed with force, droplets of water splashing and scattered across smooth marble, cold droplets spotting his crisp white shirt neatly pressed behind his standard stitched jacket.

"You're right! I would have! Getting a replacement was one thing, which I could agree with…but this Alfred?" Bruce was incredulous, not that it showed; his eyes were narrowed, mouth set in a grim line and his hands clenched tight at his side.

"He's a pleasant young man isn't he? A bit confused and spacey, but it's expected from a seven hour flight with no stops." The full cup of tea was carefully poured out in the sink, aged hands moving swiftly and precise…like Alfred always was in whatever he did.

"I don't need you to play matchmaker Alfred! And as far as I see it you have greatly miscalculated." Bruce muttered, dragging his hand through his hair as he took a seat around the kitchen island, his gaze set outside where the sun had begun to set, a stream of smoke lazily rising from the back of Gotham city in the distance, nothing out of the ordinary.

"Miscalculated because he is a man…or because you have given up on love?" Alfred's words were gently, not the usual dry tone he often used or even a touch of mockery. Bruce; looking up into clear blue eyes, pulled tight by wrinkled skin, so determined and sure. Alfred had always wanted the best for him, the man dreamed of a life where he would have grown up like his father, married a woman, have a child…aspire for more. Move to the countryside or that beautiful house by the sea, and have a peaceful retirement when it was all said and done.

That dream came crashing down when he had decided to pursue the man that had killed his parents at only ten. A path that led him to become slowly but surely the symbol Batman the protector of Gotham and her children.

At least he had children; Dick his adopted son and Damian…

"Love? Both you and I know that the love you refer to, the love you wish for me isn't…or would never be an option for me. It's useless, and it's something that I'll never need or care for." He was serious, his tone was of a man that had long since decided his options and wasn't about to change his mind, even if it was to please the one person who he wholeheartedly respected and loved as his own father.

Alfred sad nothing at first, the tap turned off and the small cups turned over to dry on their rack. Outside from the open windows of the kitchen, the smell of wet dirt wafted inside a low tink-tink against the rafters…rain would fall soon, and Mr. Tomin's old van spluttered down Wayne Manor drive way, far beyond its years but too cherished to replace.

"If I may be so bold Master Bruce, you claim to have no use for love, that it is useless…but Talia al Ghul, I believe you did love her hadn't you?" Alfred finished lightly, before throwing a white cloth over his arm and making his way outside of the kitchen in light of almost tense silence. He gave one last look over his shoulders, ignoring the presence plastered in the shadows just beyond the kitchen's door….Damian had been listening it seemed.

"As you were Master Bruce, have a good night." And that was that, he left the man to his thoughts, brown eyes unreadable as he stared out at Gotham city; the rain had started to fall, cold air fluttering inside for just a moment.

* * *

_"_ _I...I don't want you to leave." Petunia, she looked worn and sad, a soft cloth held to her mouth as she tried to discreetly dap away at the spotting of blood at the corner of her lips. Wrapped in a thin wool blanket, her thin frame leaned against the fraying peach wall paper in the foyer, she cut a pitiful image. Outside the gentle pitter-patter of rain seemed strangely loud, the groan of wind rattling the rafters, steady wind, before it would become erratic and trees would bend at odd angled, their leaves shaking in fight, a loud and odd litany to the ear of every man for a few days past._

_Summer was coming to an end, rains storms more than usual and roof lifting winds ushering the intermission, before snow would fall and winter would be upon them._

_"_ _Aunt Pet-"_

_"_ _I know Harry, I just…it gets lonely here sometimes, with Vernon-well with Dudley gone, and nosey Mrs. Poppet always knocking on my door to regale me with yet another grandchild her daughter has given her!" Ah it was still there, that envious tone boarding on a slight snobbish, Harry couldn't help but be amused as he zipped up his suitcase, his jacket hanging from the rack artfully placed just a ways from the door._

_An ugly thing it was, Vernon's making…his pride and joy… till his guard back then from the Order of the Phoenix had broken it. Too curious with wide eyes as the retrieved him from his not so often visits to his aunt after moving in with Ron and his family._

_With a final appraisal of his suitcase…he had everything he thought, he looked up at Petunia. She was trembling now, a loose hair falling gently in her face as her bony fingers tightened around the white cloth blotted with red spots…_

_"_ _Aunt Petunia, the last time I saw my mother…I...I promised I would take care of you-" Harry began softly as wrapped his arms around the frail woman. Contrary to how she looked she was warm, the lingering smell of fresh cotton and mint tea soothing, her thin arms surrounding him so tight, as if it was she comforting him and not the other way around. She was taller than him, she was a tall woman, often teased and ridiculed for what many saw as an awfully long neck and little beauty._

_She was beautiful though, despite those spiteful words, Mrs. Poppet the main instigator at private drive. A jealous bitter woman whose husband was known for his unfaithfulness._

_"_ _Harry, I'm sorry…even now I'm being selfish. You don't need my burdens on your shoulders, you have your own to deal with. It will be a few days more…till your papers are registered with the Ministry right?_

_Harry didn't say anything, his smile a tad tight before he pulled away gently._

_"_ _If something was truly wrong with you…you would let me know right?" Harry frowned, noticing how shifty her blue eyes were, the bite of her chapped lips; the clench of her fingers in her wool blanket._

_"_ _You won't have to worry love, just focus on you right now. Relax, enjoy yourself and get away, you out of anyone deserve it yes?" Evasion, she wouldn't answer him and it was enough for dread to mount in his stomach, and his chest to hurt ever so slightly._

_"_ _Alright…I'll be off then. Take care Aunt Petunia, I'll call you as soon as I can."_

Harry groaned slightly as he shifted in his sleep, the thick blankets falling away from his shoulders as his hand hung listlessly over the edge of the bed. It was a bit of a shock to the senses, the sudden cold air caressing his fingertips, but he couldn't quite care, still hovering between the realm of sleep and wakefulness.

The smell of fresh pinewood wafted inside the room, the break of daylight loud as nature sang; the chirp of birds, fluttering of wings and the fading chirp of night crickets settling down for sleep. There was a whoosh of wind, soothing almost, lulling him back to a deep sleep as tall trees outside his window swayed lazily; leaves rustling, their melody not quite there yet…perhaps not even they were fully awake.

"Hooo?" Harry's eyebrows scrunched up at the sound, a soft groan escaping red lips before they smoothed over, another shuffle and the blankets slipped further.

"Hoooo!" Green eyes fluttered open, a sleepy glance to the open bay windows…when had those been open?- the drapes were even pulled apart; new morning rays crawling along the carpeted floors, barely touching the foot of the bed. A regal owl was perched on the window sill, an eagle owl with rich brown, almost bronze feathers with spots of shiny onyx. Its eyes were a scary amber, catching every movement in its unwavering gaze… a simple letter tied to its leg.

"Margo, lovely morning we're having." Harry drawled as he stretched out his hand, said owl-Margo landed gracefully upon said offering, leg primly stuck out.

"Hooo!"

"Alright, alright! It's not my fault they sent you flying across continents, I told them they should just send anything important to Aunt Petunia." Harry muttered disgruntled at the side eye the owl gave him, obviously not believing one word he had said. He didn't pay her much mind when she fluttered off his arm and unto the sheets, her sharp claws hitching into the soft fabric. Stifling a yawn, he made work of popping open the red seal, the smell of wax and old parchment tickling at his nose.

_Harry James Potter,_

_Firstly, I must congratulate you, though perhaps congratulations are the last thing you would wish to hear at this moment. Nevertheless, congratulations are in order as your divorce had been finalized and registered with the Ministry of Magic. Again, as this is an uncontested divorce, the Ministry sees no reason to revise your chosen distribution of assets or any other such legality._

_You are a free man Mr. Potter, and I hope this news see you in good health._

_Morpheus Shacklebolt_

_Divorce Attorney_

_In connection to Brunswick & Lawson_

_Ps. Lord Zabini is quite persistent, he demands that he sees you again, or at least that I pass on a message on his behalf, despite the fact that your divorce is well and truly done with. He is still of the belief that you forced his hand, and that this divorce is in no part legal or valid. Might I ask what information I should give him, if any at all?_

_Pps. Kingsley says he hasn't heard from you, he's quite worried, though I assure him you are perfectly alright. Perhaps a call once you acquire and make use of a muggle telephone? He just recently acquired one himself. (+ 44 (0)2075881133)_

"Huh, it's done." Harry muttered, before falling back unto the bed, hands spread apart, Margo hooting in offence as he jostled her in his descent. As usual, he didn't pay her much mind, eyes flickering over to the nightstand where the simple silver band rested, his once wedding ring. He felt…he didn't really know what he felt, it was he that filed for divorce, pulled the strings even to force Blaise to sign the damn papers so…what should he feel? Without a word he plucked up the ring, holding it up to the light were it glittered for a moment, almost blinding him, before he held it out to the now curious Margo.

"Here, take it. It's yours now Margo, I don't have use for it anymore." Harry smiled slightly, watching as his attorney's prickly eagle owl swiped the ring and went flying outside the window.

_"_ _Damian! You're going whether you like it or not! Get your things ready in the next hour and stop acting like a brat!"_

That sounded like Mr. Wayne, maybe a few doors away from his own room…he couldn't quite tell. Harry groaned as he thought about what a fool he made of himself last night, acting like some idiot! The only saving grace he could claim, was that honestly he was just severely jet lagged. Gosh he even blurted out that cursed sugar daddy foolishness that's been haunting him the moment he talked about his program. The man must think him some desperate, air headed…

This was Neville's fault! With his stupid sugar daddy joke, and vivid imagery and-

Well… he wasn't jet lagged anymore, at least not so much that it affected his cognitive functions.

He would get at least most of his answers today.

* * *

Bruce barely looked up when he heard the soft knock on his study door, a few papers shuffled aside before he placed a red mark on each area of interest. Whether Bruce Wayne or Batman, he would always be a busy man, reports off all kind coming in through email almost last minute, even when his employees knew a meeting would be held with both them and the board.

At the sound of a throat clearing, Bruce finally looked up a pen hanging idly from his hand as he observed what looked like a more focussed Harry…not particularly different, yet perhaps he was.

"Ahh Mr. Potter, I see your worries of your chastity have been laid to rest, though tell the honest truth, would I really make such a horrible sugar daddy?" Bruce, he couldn't help it. Watching as those red lips turned down in an unamused frown, a twitch in an eyebrow, green eyes glaring; asshole muttered under his breath, a whisper he could still hear because of his extraordinary training.

"Ha-Ha Mr. Wayne, give the man an Oscar!" Bruce's lips twitched for a moment, Harry sounded like Alfred just then, dry British tone and a touch of disdain.

" _I'm_ still your sponsor." Bruce drawled, tapping the pen against the table for a moment as Harry closed the door behind him, and took a seat with his hands crossed over his chest.

" _I_ still have options." Harry deadpanned, noting how even now Bruce Wayne seemed so closed off, despite his ease; leaned back against his leather chair, strong hands… long fingers tapping at a spread of papers. His eyes brown, consuming if he would let it...seeing everything and nothing at the same time.

"Do you now?" Bruce smirked, setting down his pen as he leaned over the table, fingers crossed.

"Mr. Wayne I-"

"Bruce, I believe I asked you to call me Bruce." He interrupted smoothly, almost anticipating how annoyed Harry would get from his obvious taunting.

" _Mr. Wayne_ , I believe you have some questions to answer. Your answer will then determine whether I stay or I go. As I said before, I do have options." All business Bruce gathered from Harry's tone. Maybe that war hero was in there somewhere after all.

"I think I preferred when you were cute and confused, you're somewhat of a bore now." Bruce drawled, smirk on for show. How far could he get under this man's skin…why was he trying to get under his skin? Testing, yes…he was testing if this man could really be Alfred's replacement…of sort. He would kindly omit the fact that Alfred had chosen Harry as a potential lover, and not an actual replacement.

Harry simply raised an eyebrow, he was used to this. This man was just trying to get a rise out of him for no apparent reason, at least not one that he could gather. Yesterday what little he could remember, he had seen the man as fake…well partially fake. This persona before him was a part of him he believed, the asshole and rich guy feel… yes a part of him that was exaggerated to fool you at first glance. You would get a perception, and move on with that perception regardless of the truth.

"You and Alfred know about magic. How?" Harry narrowed his eyes, the feel of his wand strapped against his skin was a welcomed comfort, if he didn't like the answer, if this was a-

"Tell me Harry, out that window far west…what do you see?" Bruce suddenly asked after an extended silence. He would admit that it took him off beat, how serious the man sounded, suddenly standing with his back turned to him, a hand with-was that a house ring?-braced against the window sill.

He frowned for a moment before standing beside the man, and air breadth away, the smell of his cologne filling his senses again. It was rich, spicy…yet not overpowering. He wondered why, even if he was standing so close…why was he so aware of the man's presence?

"I see a city…Gotham, smoke, grey clouds-what does this have to do with-"

"Look again." Bruce interrupted, a slight smirk on his lips as he sensed how annoyed Harry was, being constantly interrupted. It was a fading feeling though, his emotions numbed to a mere throb in the back of his head as he looked at her. Gotham, beautiful Gotham… the woman he had given his entire life in all but a second. Harry shuffled a bit closer, almost leaning out the windows, unaware of the brush of his skin against Bruce's arm, or how the man twitched if only for a second when he smelled chocolate, light and warm.

Green eyes pinned him in place for a second, he could see flecks of so many shades…expressive and open. A kindness mixed with serious intent…yet innocent.

Not Talia…no, not like Talia.

"I see people; good, bad indifferent. I see innocence, families, children…love. Gotham is a city, but its…no she, she's alive. Now will you answer my question Mr. Wayne?" It wasn't much of a question but a demand, fierce wide eyes daring him to deny, daring him to down more of his mask to mislead the man.

"I know of magic, because I make it my duty to know all that could harm her. All that could harm Gotham and her children. Her silent protector…" Bruce, it was almost as if he was musing out loud, the way his eyes gazed at the city, never straying. Harry was confused for a moment, silent protector he said…what had that meant, and how could that justify-

"Think Harry, I'm sure you've done your research. You must know something that stands out in this city, unless you can't focus because of my wicked intentions for your body." A roguish smirk, which only got him a vicious glare before- as if a light bulb had gone off-Harry's eyes widen.

"You're that sick pervert who swings around at night dressed like some crazy overgrown bat!"

Bruce stopped short at that, mouth slightly opened, he couldn't even help the incredulous stare. How did he even respond to an accusation like-

"I'm not a pervert!"

"Tell that to the poor old woman in that article that claims you were peeping on her when she was bathing." Harry muttered as he crossed his arms in a huff, head turned to the side, Bruce would have fallen for it if he hadn't noticed the twitch of the man's lips, failing at containing his amusement.

"Ha-Ha, you got me." Bruce deadpanned, unamused as he returned to his desk, shuffling papers about before glancing at the clock.

If the brat listened, he should be ready soon.

"So you're the Batman, and because the Batman has his fingers in every part of a country's government, he has acquired inside info that magic exist. So second question, what are you going to do with this information?" Harry was serious again, as he leaned against the wall closest to the window, watching the man silently work.

Bruce paused before continuing to shuffle the papers, stopping at what looked like an invitation to some ball, his secretary strangely underlining the requirement of a plus one.

"Nothing, I'll do nothing. I only see it paramount that I have contingency plans to protect Gotham should wizards suddenly become a threat." Harry frowned for a second before taking his seat once more before the man.

"And why am I here…in your home? I'm sure you could care less about my program; and the fact that you know about magic, and _I'm_ a wizard…" Saying it out loud like that made him shiver slightly, itching to grab at his wand, expecting American aurors to drag him off to Alcatraz…wizarding Alcatraz, without a trial.

"Alfred…he's more than a butler, he serves to keep the identity of Batman and Bruce Wayne separate at any cost. Just like I assume you are able to keep the Wizard Harry, and the No-Maj Harry separate. Alfred is old, I'll need a new assistant."

"And you want me to be that 'assistant'?" Harry muttered, he could tell there was something _Bruce_ wasn't telling him. The question is, was he willing to stick around like the foolish Gryffindor he was and find out.

"In a nutshell, you wanted out from your world didn't you?" Bruce gave a pointed look to Harry's bare ring finger, said man folded his fingers as if to hide whatever unseen evidence.

"Wrong, I needed a break, but I can see where you're going with this." Harry answered simply, green eyes staring into brown…no, why did he insist on calling them brown…they were a bit hazel now that he really looked.

"And your answer?" Bruce asked simply, hands folded under his chin, his eyebrow raised, and that smirk… that forever smirk teasing at his lips.

"A month, give me a month _Mr. Wayne_ and I'll tell you if I want anything to do with a life that defeats my purpose of relaxing." Harry smirked slightly himself, the call of adventure pulsing in his blood even when he tried the temper the clashing tides.

"A month, very well _Mr. Potter,_ just one question, can you drive?" Harry didn't trust that wicked glint in the man's eyes, even if he appeared straight-faced, as if the question was casual.

"Yes?"

"Well then, your first task as a participant for Education for Higher…you'll be driving my son to school…you have fifteen minutes before he's actually late. Good luck." Bruce all but grinned, a dismissal as he handed the shocked Harry a set of keys.

"But…"

"If you're late, that's one black mark on your performance sheet Mr. Potter."

"You asshole!"

"Oh! Look at that you've already gone one black mark! Terrible-terrible Mr. Potter!"

"Damn you!" Harry cursed as he quickly scrambled out of the office, almost tripping over the very chair he had just sat.

With an amused shake of his head, Bruce merely continued to finish up his paperwork.

"Yes, it is quite a pleasure to meet you Harry Potter." A low mutter as a small picture fell from a thin profile, a serious green eyed man, a touch of a smile, with a wand hanging from his hand. A tall redhead grinning at the camera, arm thrown over the shorter man as a young woman rolled her eyes.

In the background the constant ring of a phone could be heard, and Mr. Tomin's old truck struggling up the driveway.


	8. Chapter 8

"-ust give it a try. I did it, Bruce di-"

"You don't get it!" Damian shouted, the phone gripped tight against his ear as he paced the length of his room. Why did he even think Dick would help, as much as he preached about brother's sticking together and some kid cartoon crap, he _always_ at the end of the day stuck up for _Bruce_ over him.

"Damian, just wait don't-" He didn't give Dick the chance to finish before he disconnected the call angrily, throwing the phone none too gently on the bed, said device bouncing across the sheets almost tittering over the edge. It rang, a constant vibration that went unanswered as Damian sat on the seat of the bay windows. Dick didn't get it, none of them would, for all they talked dark and mysterious things they were still suns and daisies…well Dick was, Bru-his dad…half of the time, he would think he had figured him out only to be taken off guard in nothing but a second.

It was worse now…not understanding the man; he was so used to the closed off symbol, growling monotones…cold eyes, suspicious eyes yet now…

Now the man wanted to be a father, whatever that meant…it wasn't something he could say he really understood, being raised-could he even call that raise?- to live without the weakness of emotions. The cold Bruce Wayne, wasn't so cold anymore, he was almost normal...as normal as Bruce Wayne could get at any rate.

In a sense he liked it, wanted it…but he was straying off topic. How could his father possibly think that sending him among stupid civilian _children_ with their dream world of expectations would even work out! He wasn't there yet and he could say he already hated it! He just wanted…just wanted what he originally came here for, to work by his father's side…be the next Robin like Dick used to be. Prove to him…and himself, that he could be trusted, that he could fit in and be _Damian Wayne_ , heir to Bruce Wayne, not Damian al Ghul, heir to Talia al Ghul.

"I believe your father gave you strict instructions that you should be ready within the next hour." Damian scowled at the familiar dry drawl of the Wayne Manor butler. He and Alfred…they had an odd relationship, Damian would of course act the brat, as if he in some way was higher in status than Alfred, who couldn't claim blood relation to Bruce Wayne, and Alfred…Alfred would ignore said brat and continue on in his daily life.

The all-knowing, all-seeing British butler.

"You ever heard of knocking!" Damian shouted before he swivelled sideways to glare at the unaffected butler.

"Yes, I believe it's the action one does when trying to gain access to an otherwise private setting." Alfred drawled as he laid out the freshly pressed Gotham Academy uniform, complete with a sharp navy blue blazer, white undershirt and crisp khaki pants.

"You-you, you can't just barge into my room!" Damian gritted out in annoyance, watching as the butler gently placed shine leather shoes on the floor, before throwing that white cloth he always had over his arm.

"Oh? This is a private setting? Do forgive me, would you like me to supply you a sign, I'm sure your fath-" Alfred began in his usual tone, face expressionless as adjusted the cloth to lay evenly over his arm.

"Alfred just! Augh-I get it!" Damian huffed as he angrily sat himself down on his bed, the uniform slipping from its precise lay out, the navy blue tie with the Gotham Academy crest slipping to the floor.

"Young Master Dami-" Alfred began lightly, only to stop mid-speech. With a heavy sigh, he primly sat beside the boy, silent…waiting.

"I'm not going Alfred. I don't care what you say or what he thinks." Damian muttered, kicking mulishly at the soft carpet.

"You don't care what I think, that I can believe Master Damian, but what your father thinks—what you say you feel…that's not really the truth is it?" It wasn't a question, they both knew it, even as overhead the antique clock ticked in rhythm to the new silence, and the trees outside his window swayed lazily, the sun bright…the air cool.

Damian glared down at his hands, tanned skin-like his father—taught as he clenched and unclenched his fist in his lap.

"I'm not wearing the stupid tie." Damian muttered as he angrily gathered the uniform.

Alfred only nodded with a small smile, they both knew that he would be wearing that tie whether he liked it or not.

"Ah Master Damian, how remiss of me, Master Bruce will not be taking you to school I'm afraid. Instead it will be our new resident for the foreseeable future." Alfred sounded almost absentminded, his curious gaze set upon the odd frame turned down on the nightstand. He didn't remember putting it there, which meant it must have solely belonged to Damian. An article he had carried along with what little possessions he had with him that night perhaps?

"What?!" At the-outraged, no it wasn't that angered…annoyed perhaps-at the annoyed cry from Damian Alfred couldn't help but to turn to face the boy, the strange turned down frame pushed slightly to the back of his mind.

The uniform suited the boy, he looked sharp and put together like a proper Wayne should be, even if green eyes were glaring hellfire. His hair though…perhaps it would be better to go with a bit of rebellion than the slicked back requirement of the academy.

"So the boy can clean up, looking dapper Master Damian." Alfred supplied in response to Damian's unamused stare. The boy was truly his father's son, he could give that much as he made his way pass said boy.

"Alfred don't just walk away from me! What do you mean Dad won't be-" He hadn't even noticed his slip of tongue, Alfred mused, the quite muttering of arrogant assholes fading below, in the direction of the garage. Ah, so Bruce had broken the news to Harry and he wasn't happy about it.

Well, on the bright side both Harry and Damian could bond over how annoyed they were at Master Bruce…or kill each other, it was fair game he wagered.

"Perhaps a trip to the otologist is due, I hear tumours in the ear are responsible for a percentage of deafness in young children." Alfred casted a side glance before continuing his descent down the stairs. It seems the kitchen staff were having a bit of trouble with the beef wellington Master Bruce had requested on the menu for dinner. A welcome for Harry perhaps?-he duly hoped Master Bruce did not believe beef wellington would ease the young man's ire-he had to deal with Damian after all.

" _Alfred, what do you mean he's not taking me?!_ " Damian hissed, almost tripping over the last step to catch up to the infuriating butler.

"I think what he means…is that I'll be taking you to school…Damian I assume?" Said boy paused at the light voice, it wasn't amused, annoyed more like it he could tell.

He turned, Alfred already escaping to wherever he was going, a man dressed in dark jeans and a close fitted crew neck, long sleeved T…navy blue like his stupid itchy blazer.

But that's not what really caught his attention, no…it was those green eyes, an almost match for his own mother's. His hand clenched tight at the thought, Alfred's obvious plan… He didn't like it.

He didn't like him...

He didn't like Harry Potter.

* * *

It was uncomfortable, the silence…the tension. Merlin, it was like all Waynes were like this. They would stare you down the moment you met, eyes unreadable and that damn tension you couldn't quite tell the exact source.

Well…almost unreadable, this kid didn't quite hide what he was thinking so well. He could see that for whatever reason Damian didn't much care for him to put it lightly.

"Right, so I guess you already know this, but I'm Harry." Extend an olive branch, open conversation, this doesn't have to go south on the first day; these were Harry's thoughts, hands clenched tight on the steering wheel, the heavy scent of the asshole's cologne high in the air as he adjusted the AC.

"You're driving on the wrong side of the road. Maybe you should focus on that and stop trying to chat me up." Damian muttered angrily as he made a show of turning away from the British man, elbow rested on the window sill as trees passed by.

Did he say Damian was a kid? He was a down right brat he could already tell. Harry resisted the need to roll his eyes childishly, promptly shifting gears so he could reverse in that side road he had seen and get in the correct lane…right, in the USA you drove on the right. Sue him for still driving like he was in England! The fact that he a _wizard_ could drive and had a license was a miracle in itself!

"Look kid-"

"I'm not a kid!" Damian shouted, spinning around to glare at the stupid man. How could Alfred think this was a good choice for his dad, this airhead who couldn't drive worth salt—this—this civilian despite whatever his measly file said. War hero, ha! He didn't buy it.

"Brat!" Harry muttered under his breath, the indicator loud as he made a right turn, the navigating system advising him about the traffic ahead.

"How dare you! I'm going to-"

"What? You're going tell your _daddy_." Harry couldn't help it, he rolled his eyes just then. He could just picture Draco Malfoy in that moment, every other word out of his mouth was my father this and my father that…gosh he hope he didn't have to deal with that level of brattitude, yes that was his word for it.

Damian didn't say a word, but by looks alone Harry knew he would be dead, it was only made more intense by how familiar their eyes were, startling green trying to rip up your heart, just not knowing how…or rather, having trouble deciding the best way to do it.

Was this how people felt when he glared at them? He had anger issues, but he wasn't this bad…right?

"Look kid-" the glare was more intense, too bad it didn't affect him in anyway, if he wasn't pissed off by that toe-rag of a smirking, arrogant-

"You don't like me for whatever reason, it's quite obvious I might add and I don't particularly know what to feel about you, although I have you pegged down as a brat already-" At that Harry smirked in amusement, watching how the kid's hands clenched as if to prove him wrong and not explode in anger. Merlin, he had anger issues, or maybe it was daddy issues and he was projecting. Harry hummed to himself, eyes more focussed on the crawling traffic of Gotham city with crazed pedestrians and flashing lights even in broad daylight.

" _But_ , if your toe-rag of a father keeps this up I'll be the one driving you to and from school…well that's if I stay for more than one month, which at this point I surely doubt." Harry huffed, tapping his fingers impatiently as he stopped at yet another red light. He was sure fifteen minutes had long since pass, he didn't put it pass the man to really give him a black mark on his progress sheet, the bloody wanker.

"Wait! You're only staying a month? But Alfred-" Damian eyes widened in surprise, the anger bleeding form his face for a moment. He really looked like his father, sharp features, same dark hair even if it looked ridiculous slicked back like that, even the shape of his eyes; it was just the colour that was off. He would have been creeped out how similar their eyes looked, but he'd seen Voldemort naked, if that didn't give him nightmares, then eye colour wouldn't phase him.

Harry raised a curious eyebrow at the unfinished sentence, but Alfred what? That nagging feeling was back tenfold now, what the hell was he missing in this picture. Sponsored by an infuriating billionaire, said billionaire loves cosplay and wanted him as an assistant…and what?

"I didn't say I was staying for one month, just that it _migh_ t be one month." Harry clarified, watching from the corner of his eye as the brat mulled that over, before seemingly scowling at whatever conclusion he had cooked up in that crazy mind if his.

"That's too bad, I was hoping you'd be out of my sight in less than a month." Damian snarked, mood plummeting even further as the navigating system announced they had reached their destination, the car pulling up in the school's driveway.

"Oh, snookum I love you too." Harry drawled, shifting the gear into park before looking Damian expectedly.

"I'm not going." Damian muttered, his hands crossed over his chest as he watched rich kids in their cliques; girls, boys, they all had this entitled air about them. Like they were better than everybody, a girl caught his eye and in a heartbeat she flipped her hair and promptly ignored him as if he was the damn dirt she walked on.

"Here I thought nothing could phase you, yet here we are hiding away in your father's jaguar like a little kid." Harry would almost smirk at the obvious reaction he got. Damian glared at him before promptly leaving the car and slamming the door shut.

Seriously…anger issues.

Harry wind down the window before Damian could storm off.

"Gotham University is just a few blocks away if you need anything I'll be-" Damian didn't even wait for him to finish before he was storming off with his bag strapped over one shoulder, students quickly getting out of his way.

"-just down the road." Harry deadpanned, before closing the window with a huff. Well he tried, it's not like it was his _task_ or anything. But still…the kid looked like he needed someone in his corner, curse him and his soft heart for giving a damn.

* * *

"- and you have another meeting at 7:00 with Lex Luth-" Roselle reeled off as she held the clipboard close to her chest. As usual Bruce didn't pay her one mind, his head down as he marked off something on the board reviews he had gotten not too long ago.

"Reschedule for another date." Bruce muttered, he would push back that meeting as long as it was possible. If Lex Luther thought that he would ever consider a partnership with-

"But Bruce-" Roselle almost flinched when said man looked up, brown eyes pinning her in place, a sharp brow raised at her boldness. She flushed in embarrassment for a moment before clearing her throat.

"Mr. Wayne, you can't keep pushing the meeting, the best I could do is reschedule for 3:30 pm today. Mr Luther said he would be available then should you have issues with the timing." Roselle spoke sternly, even when she honestly wanted to just escape the full brunt of the man's silent stare. Like this, it was more intimidating than consuming passion that she would dream of.

"3:30 pm it is then." Bruce conceded, his hand held out, yet Roselle continued to stand in front of his desk almost confused…or was it lost in thought; unfortunately for her he didn't have time for daydreaming.

"Ms. Allen, the clipboard." Bruce drawled, said woman blushing at her obvious slip before promptly handing over said clipboard, her fingers brushing against his skin. With a shake of his head, he placed the clipboard to the side before scoring through the last of the reviews from the early board meeting. He could feel her still standing there, fiddling with the ends of her skirt and without looking up he knew she would be biting her lip.

"Yes Ms. Allen?" Bruce sighed in annoyance, the pen placed on the table as he leaned back in his chair, waiting to hear what else she could possibly have to say.

"Bru-Mr. Wayne…the charity ball in a-"

"That's not till two months." Bruce interrupted, he could see her angle already. He often pretended that he didn't notice her infatuation with him because she really was good a t her job, but still…it got old quick.

"Y-yes two months, I-do you know who you'll bring as your plus one? I mean so I could make-"

"It's like I said, the charity ball is in two months Ms. Allen, a date at this point is as far from my mind as it'll get." Bruce dismissed as he turned back to his paper work.

She was still lingering.

"You can leave when you're ready Ms. Allen." He was being an asshole, he knew it but her behaviour of late was really getting on his nerves. Maybe he should really take Mrs. Thomas' advice and find a replacement.

He wondered how Harry would take that if he offered him the job, Bruce snorted in amusement before it faded from the obvious depressed mood his office space had suddenly become, Roselle silently leaving.

Really, that girl…

* * *

"I'm sure at some point in your life you've heard of Piaget's stages of cognitive development, but how many of you know the history behind it, the reason he-"

"Dr. Lindale, this is not a history lesson! Why would we even care about why he developed his radical theory about child development?! We all know it a bunch of cra-" Harry was surprised that his eyes hadn't opted to just give up the fight and roll right out of his eyes. Why didn't he just skip today, he wasn't even fully registered yet and this was an introductory session at any rate, he wouldn't have missed much.

"Ah Mr. Peters as enthusiastic as usual, I did wonder if I'd ever see you in my class once more. Your spectacular attention to detail and true research in your undergrad paper was truly riveting-no truly it was." Dr. Lindale's grin was too wide, eyes too bright, like that killer clown he kept hearing about. Harry was barely able to keep in his own amusement, flipping to a blank page in his note/doodle book. It didn't look like it worked because Austin Peters bestowed upon him a scathing glare before sitting down with a huff, his pen being tapped impatiently on the smooth table.

"Right, if there are no more objections? Good, now Piaget was employed at the Binet Institute in the 1920's-" the lecturer drowned on, Harry quickly finding himself lost in thought, ignoring the disgusted stare from Austin beside him, apparently the man couldn't for the life of him understand how someone as 'unfocused' as Harry could possibly get into a Master's program without some form of _help_. He wasn't even going to give the child the time of day for his implications, it wasn't worth it and he had better things to do with his life.

"-otter, Mr. Potter!" Harry flinched from the loud shout, students giggling under their breaths at his deer caught in the headlight look, his pen hanging comically from his mouth. Of course Austin didn't bother hiding his superior look,

"Mr. Potter are you alright? I've been calling you for the last minute. Never mind that though, it seems you're needed in the secretary's office, it's just down the end of the hall." The lecturer looked concerned but didn't voice it, carefully handing Harry a folder of papers as he walked by, his bag hanging off one shoulder.

"Your assignment for wednesday, it's due 12:00 midnight, no later than that. You'll find attached to the back of this document my email address and contact number along with additional details, I hope to see you back here again Mr. Potter, once you've fully registered." Lindale, was an aged man, his hair an almost starling white, flopping into strangely clear grey eyes. The man reminded him of Professor McGonagall, strict at first and a tad snarky but once you showed enough interest in his class, and continued to do so, you could easily fast track into the man's good graces.

"Thank-you Dr. Lindale, I really appreciate it…I should probably go now the secretary-" Harry trailed off, when the man had yet to let go of the folder.

"Right, yes my apologies—Mr. Peters, this is your last warning, it is not beyond me to have you kicked out of this class!" and just as quickly Lindale's attention was overtaken by his less than impressed class. Harry could do nothing but shake his head at it all, making his way silently outside of the classroom and towards the secretary's office.

* * *

"Mr. Potter, I understand that this is an emergency but this is an elite university, we are _not_ running a daycare facility!" Secretary Jones sniffed, her glasses pushed up the bridge of her nose as she ended the phone call from the Dean's office. Harry could feel the tension headache coming on. A slow throb in that one spot , nagging really as he casted a side glance at the scowling Wayne heir across from him. What was he even doing here! The last time he checked his schedule pickup was for 3:15 pm the latest, and why did he looked like he just came from one hell of a fight?!

"I understand Ms. Jones-"

" _Mrs. Jones-_ "

"It won't happen again, I'm _sure_ of it." Harry breezily continued on as if the woman hadn't said anything at all.

"Mr. Potter your son just can't-"

"Come Damian, your father's probably-" the conversation trailed off as Harry quickly left the secretary's office a disgruntled Damian following close behind, the door closing with a soft click.

Mrs. Jones mouth opened slightly at the easy dismissal, an angry breath let loose as she none too gently grabbed at her pen, furiously scribbling and then it was a light bulb went off when she suddenly froze.

"Father?! But that kid—and the eyes—and…is he the _mom_!"

* * *

"Look you can either let me treat that cut over your eye, or we can take this to Mr. Wayne and let him deal with it. I have a feeling that's not something you want." Harry sighed in frustration as the boy pulled away from him yet again. He had small bruises here and there, a split over his right eye that looked pretty nasty at first glance, but for the most part the kid was ok.

The school had called, how they got his number when he just purchased his phone he would never know, and why they thought that he was the kid's mother was whole other can of worms-school officials sure got a surprise when a clearly male voice answered.

That was beside the point though, Damian had gotten in a fight, beat some preppy kid almost to death-he was sure the school was exaggerating now-and apparently promptly left for his university without permission, demanding that the staff get _his_ mother before he sued them for everything they were worth.

Again…the bloody mother reference.

"If that was supposed to be a threat, you'd have better luck with that dumb alien that calls himself Superman." Damian glared, his hand folded across his chest as he watched Harry dip a cloth in cool water.

"Did you at least win?" Harry sighed, as he sat beside Damian, dapping at the open cut, it didn't look like it would need stitches. Damian didn't say anything at first, carefully watching Harry's every movement, assessing…looking for what was left unsaid.

"Of course!" Damian sniffed after all, scowling when Harry snapped a hello kitty Band-Aid over the cut.

"Sorry it's the only one I had." Harry grinned, one that quickly slipped off his face when he heard the raised voice of Bruce Wayne downstairs,Damians green eyes flashing with...he couldn't quite tell.

"If you want I could… cover for you or something?" Harry started hesitantly, he wasn't particularly fond of the brat but it's like he said earlier, the kid looked like he needed someone in his corner.

He almost reminded him of himself when he was younger, angry at the world and everyone in it.

" I don't need your help!"Damian glared before grabbing his bag and leaving for his own room, they had occupied Harry's trying desperately not to be seen by the all-knowing butler; only for said butler to come equipped with a first aid kit and fresh water.

"Right, or you could just go." Harry muttered with a huff, before throwing himself on his bed, green eyes lost in thought, not really seeing anything beyond the window.

Brats with anger issues who lie to school officials that he was his bloody mother just to avoid his father, said father an infuriating multibillionaire/crime fighting bat wearing maniac and a shady butler that everyone knew what was up with yet he was left in the dark grasping at straws.

Neville must be having a bloody ball for sure.

What in Merlin's name did he get himself into?!

It was going to be one hell of a month, of that he was sure.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Young Justice.**

* * *

"Just tell me where he is you, bloody ingrate!"

Neville clenched his jaw tight, the tension hurt just a tad, but if he didn't do it, Merlin knew he would take his wizarding spade and shove it up this pompous arse…well arse!

Angrily Neville none too gently pulled off his dirt covered gloves, the gentle coo of the baby Tanabear crop doing nothing to soothe his frustration.

"He's done, Blaise! Which part of done don't you quite get? The part where he twisted your hands to sign away your 'marriage' or the part where he threatened to punch you in the face if you kept bothering him?!" Neville glared as he roughly pushed past the well-dressed wizard, finely tailored dark robes and all. Blaise Zabini was worse than any pest, and Merlin he was sorry to think it, but Harry better be having his usual dose of Potter luck for leaving him here with the moron.

Blaise let out a sigh of frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off an incoming headache, only Harry bloody Potter would reduce him to this pitiful mess. Like those damnable blood traitors and muggle loving fools, prone to emotional outburst and lack of propriety on any given day.

"Longbottom! Look, you and I both know he's just being the bloody stubborn Gryffindor he's always been. This divorce or whatever he calls a divorce- he's just getting back at me!" The young lord muttered as he ran his hand through his low cut hair, his newly acquired wedding ring glittering from the touch of sun that peeked behind the perfectly clear glass of the greenhouse. Neville casted it a simple glance before his eyes strayed to the chain around the man's neck, another wedding ring tucked underneath- of course, his silk shirt.

The Pureblood…he didn't cut him as a sentimental figure, then again he didn't peg him as one to get married to a half-blood right after the bloody war had ended. He personally had thought it was a mistake then…but Harry looked so happy, he was probably a horrible friend for not saying anything in the first place. Knowing Harry, it would have fallen on deaf ears regardless.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night Zabini, at this point I could care less. Now if you'll excuse me-" Neville began as he walked past, only for the tall wizard to grab him forcefully by the arm, a strong grip, fingers biting into his skin. Too bad he wasn't the same terrified little lad that was afraid of his own shadow. With that thought, he harshly pulled away from the fuming man, glare set in place. What the hell did Harry see in Zabini? It was moments like this he wished he knew what happened after Ron died…it all started then didn't it?

"Look just— _please_ , tell me where he is. If he would just listen-this, none of this-we can go back to how it was." He sounded desperate, as desperate as Blaise Zabini could get at any rate. His brown eyes seemed genuine, there was probably hurt-no it wasn't hurt, but maybe a touch of regret, no remorse though. At the end of the day, it looked like there was some affection for Harry, maybe what the pureblood called love, but still…a purely selfish being stared out at him.

"Zabini, you wanted him to be something he wasn't. Blend in with your 'high society' to such a point he would be unrecognisable. But that's not all, is it? You started pushing, the pressure was on and your lordship was on the line'-"

"If he had taken the bloody potion none of this would have happened! I wouldn't need to take a second spouse to provide-"

"Yeah-yeah, provide the Zabini with an heir we've all heard the stories, Draco Malfoy makes it his duty to defend your sorry arse on a regular basis. He might not particularly like Harry, but he knows compared to what you have now, Harry was a bloody saint!"

"I wouldn't expect a blood traitor like you to-"

"Merlin! You would think after the war that entitled mindset of yours would be all but gone, you married a half-blood, the same half-blood that killed your-"

"The Dark Lord was _neve_ r my Master!" Blaise sneered, before seemingly remembering himself. He straightened his robes before standing tall as he always did, a dignified look about him.

"Tell him he needs to see me." He bit out, having enough of the accusing looks for the pitiful excuse of a pureblood. The war might have been over, he might have even fallen in lo- he might have married a half-blood, Harry Potter of all people; it didn't mean his mentality was about to change years after. Not when nothing in their society seemed to change.

"You mean that _you_ need to see him. Zabini, for your sake, just move on; go take care of your new pureblood wife, have the true blood heir you needed so badly that you wouldn't even-!"

"Longbottom, you're treading a dangerous line, if you know what's good for you, you won't finish that sentence." Blaise's voice was rough, veiled anger and intent. Selfish and wicked in one breath, cold eyes…stoned face; seriously, what could have happened between Ron's death and Voldemort's defeat that Harry would even accept this man, this _unworthy_ man's hand in marriage.

He was out the door with little flourish, Draco Malfoy standing at the old gates uncomfortably, the silver cane his father once carried himself held tight as he looked around in obvious distaste. The blonde frowned, seeing the obviously displeased stare of Blaise, blue eyes flickering to meet his hazel, a question being asked, but none would be given.

Draco Malfoy was in no place to beg anything of him for Blaise Zabini.

With a huff he returned to caring for his plants, hopefully, the man would get the hint and let things be. He had a new spouse, his inheritance, and if he was lucky a son to be had, the least he could do was let Harry be.

* * *

"A nickel for your thoughts?" Bruce grinned, green eyes glaring up at him. Harry was sprawled out among numerous papers, half written and riddled with doodles—a habit perhaps?

"They're worth a little more than that Mr. Wayne, I doubt you could possibly comprehend the complexity of higher thinking." Harry drawled, he wasn't particularly in a good mood. He didn't have classes today, wouldn't have them until Thursday again, the same day his paper was due. His mood though, it was all because of that little brat, of course, he was left with the drop-off and pick-up duties. The kid didn't waste one bit of time regaling him with how unworthy he was, that he wasn't even going to last a month as Batman's assistant because he was that dumb. Merlin, where did he get his bloody attitude from? If it wasn't beyond him he'd give the kid a good hiding across his peachy arse!

The source of his new or not so new brattitude? Apparently, Mr. Wayne wasn't happy with his hobby of beating up poor unsuspecting kids two weeks ago, and he was officially grounded, which include no hero duty either. And wasn't that a bloody surprise, the kid cosplayed too!

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and here I was carrying a peace offering-seems I was wrong, you don't like chocolate?" Bruce raised an amused eyebrow as he gently shook the box from the doorway he was leaned against. Harry, of course, perked up at the word chocolate, green eyes hungrily eyeing the box but too proud to beg.

"If you just beg…" Bruce smirked, trailing off suggestively as he walked into the room, eyeing the laptop that was flipped on its side.

"Not a chance!" Harry glared, crossing his hands over his chest, very aware when the sheets shifted, the smell of that cologne- what was it?-invading his senses as _Bruce_ sat close, too close.

"You know I could write this up as a misdemeanor, another black mark on your already black mark riddled profile." Bruce grinned, leaning into Harry's personal space, the box of chocolate held up between them. Green eyes were furious now, taunting Harry was just too easy. He was like a wild kitten with sharp claws, sharp claws that wouldn't have any issue with tearing them through the skin of his back or slow steady bite in the flesh of his neck. So close, that he could almost see the rise of goose bumps on pale skin from the heat of his breath, he could smell the soft lingering scent of chocolate, forever warm.

"Not even a little, you break my heart, Harry." Bruce gave a taunting whisper, getting shoved in the face for his efforts, Harry turning over on his stomach, righting the laptop so he could continue his paper.

" _Goodbye_ Mr. Wayne!"

Bruce could only shake his head in amusement before he dropped the box on top of Harry's head.

"Will you cut it ou-" Harry raged, ready to swipe at the infuriating jackass but was quickly intercepted, his hand grabbed in a strong grip, his body forcefully pulled against a too hot chest. Everything just hit him in a second, the spices from his cologne… the firm chest under his ear, he could feel ever ridge, every dip…hot.

Aware; why was he so aware of this man? This anxiety in his chest, a gripping feeling almost like he had trouble breathing…no, maybe not that extreme, but a tension he couldn't quite place for every pulse beneath his skin. Bruce Wayne was handsome yes, maybe even more than handsome. Tall and completely masculine; but he was an asshole, he didn't know him that well, he got on his nerves…and he was straight.

Sudden _slight_ attractions were annoying, even more so in light of his recent divorce. This, whatever this was…it was better left buried in the sand and forgotten, the last thing he needed was to be attracted to his infuriating sponsor like a run of the mill muggle chick flick.

"This is sexual harassment Mr. Wayne, you would do well to release me." Harry hissed, glare even more heated when he felt that hand trail down the exposed skin of his lower back, where his shirt had ridden up, fingertips brushing the gentle curve of his-he was doing this on purpose! He could just see it, the wicked smirk…deep brown eyes that even now were cold…

The divide between mask and man…would it ever fall?

"Is it still sexual harassment if I'm not gay?" Bruce teased before pulling away, he didn't linger on the strange thoughts of how soft the man's skin was, soft that he wanted to press his hand into supple flesh, watch if the pupils of startling green would blow wide, dilate…feel his touch…

What was he thinking…?

"I want you to come with me." Bruce tone had changed Harry realised, as if he was suddenly angry at himself, refusing to look at him for a moment before he seemingly gathered his composure and turned to leave.

"I'm waiting, Mr. Potter, I'm sure your report can not do with yet another fault." The man smirked before leaving as if he expected Harry to just get up and follow. With a huff he turned away from the door and back to his half typed assignment, his pen tapping at the side of the screen before his damnable curiosity reared its head.

"Damn it! I could almost ignore him too!" Harry muttered angrily, throwing down the pen as he quickly went after the _lovely_ toe-rag.

* * *

"Alfred…are you sure about this?" It was Dick, after talking to Damian it was obvious something was up. A replacement…it just sounded odd, and calling in now he realized he wasn't so far off in thinking something was fishy. He would have never taken Alfred of all people to be interested in air-brained schemes, especially when it involved Bruce's love life.

"He's already breaking down, and Mr. Potter hasn't been here for quite some time yet. It perhaps helped a tad, because of his features, startling green eyes such as his are bound to bind anyone in a spell." Alfred drawled over the phone, mindful of the kitchen staff's curious gaze, Ms. Bobby craning her neck ever so slightly to get the latest news on Master Bruce, especially if it concerned love.

"But Alfred…Bruce isn't…he isn't attracted to men! And do you really think it's a good idea to play on his once attraction to Talia al Gul—he hates her Alfred!"

"Master Richard, I'm quite aware of where Master Bruce's affection lies when it concerns that particular woman. Not to be cocky, but I would know more than anyone-"

"But Alfred, isn't it unfair to both of them?! What if-"

"You are under the impression that I in some way aspire to force them into a relationship Master Richard, an accusation I very much do not appreciate!" Alfred frowned, managing somehow to keep his anger in check as he silently left the kitchen, the sight of an amused Bruce refusing to answer Harry's question as they bend the corner, greeting him.

"I…I know you mean well Alfred, but what about Damian? He doesn't need-"

"Ah, so the root of the problem has revealed itself. It seems Master Bruce has yet to tell the boy about Tim Drake." Alfred frowned, stopping at the edge of the stairs, a careful glance sent to every shadowed corner.

Dick released a tired sigh that echoed over the line, Alfred could just imagine the young man dragging his hand through his much too long hair. In the background, cheerful conversation was muffled, and excited call of—Starfire?—loud for a moment before the young man seemingly moved to somewhere quieter, all sounds in the background silent.

"Damian, he won't like this. He wants to be his father's legacy, it's important to him Alfred. When he finds out about Tim—if what the doctors said is right, Bruce will have full custody by the month end. Tim was, _is_ already the Robin, two strangers in his home would be-"

"I see…I must admit that when I first thought of this plan I had only seen the makings of Master Bruce's potential happiness. I grow old each day, something I had allowed to cloud my better judgment perhaps." Alfred sighed, the man sounded so tired, yet he still did not feel guilt. Bringing Harry here was the right move, he saw the potential for the young British to be the buffer that would be needed for any possible fall out.

"Alfred…I'm sorry, I'm just-"

"Worried Master Richard, and rightfully so. I do not begrudge you your concern, even if you single handedly questioned my character." Alfred drawled, amused at his pseudo grandchild's sputtering. The Wayne's adopted or otherwise were too easy at times.

"This…Harry…he's nice at least, right?" Dick questioned hesitantly, he didn't like not being there himself to vet his potential…future dad? Especially when his little brother was involved, vulnerable little brother even if he won't admit it. Bruce…the man could take care of himself.

"As nice as one can get when faced with the full attention of Bruce Wayne's mischievous side." Alfred would have grinned, but somehow the deadpan expression even if it couldn't be seen was more appropriate.

" _Mischievous_ , Bruce doesn't do mischievous!"

"Good day Master Richard, I believe your girlfriend was it?—is calling you."

" _Raven_ is not my girlfriend!"

Alfred didn't even bother to answer, the call being ended swiftly before Richard could deny his womanizing ways and obvious deep interest in the troubled empath.

"Tim Drake…who's Tim Drake?" If he was anyone else he would have jumped, that being said, Damian suddenly emerged from the dark alcove of the stairwell. It seemed the boy had skipped his afternoon classes yet again.

* * *

"This is the Bat cave, over the next couple of weeks you'll become quite familiar with its lay-out. Alfred, he does many things, but one of the most important is-

"He keeps the Batman and Bruce Wayne separate…at least he helps to." Harry finished softly, eyes opened in wonder at what looked like advanced technology, large monitors that showed Gotham city live from various angles, coded script running up screens, designs for machinery he couldn't hope to understand the use for…

"You don't expect me to keep these things in working order do you? I'm a wizard, the little you do know about us should tell you it's a bad idea to leave us too long around-" Harry trailed off in his incredulous speech, when Bruce began to smirk.

"What?!" Harry crossed his hand over his chest, watching as Bruce said nothing as he walked past, ow lights flickering on at a side of the cave Harry hadn't noticed.

It looked like a medical ward; a gurney, lines of shiny silver tools that he couldn't wrap his mind around, EKG machines, cabinets filled with medicine—he still hadn't looked up those pills Petunia was taking—syringes, what was this?

"The Batman, as loathe as I am to admit, as much as humility is not beyond me-"

Harry snorted at that, unashamed by the slight glare he received in response.

"-does get injured from time to time. It would be awfully suspicious if Bruce Wayne should enter a hospital, or even call a private doctor for 'unexplained' injuries." Bruce watched as Harry carefully trailed his hand over silver tools, hand almost delicate as it paused and would trace a groove here and there, before green eyes looked seriously into his own.

"It was funny at first—a bit on the incredulous side—but I just couldn't help myself, I was curious. This Mr. Wa—Bruce, this is serious. You want me to—I don't even know basic healing much less-"

"But that's not true is it Harry Potter. You know enough, you knew enough that you survived a bloody war relatively unscathed." Bruce spoke softly as Harry turned his back to him, finger's still tracing the tools that he was supposed to someday use?

"I didn't survive that war unscathed Bruce Wayne, you of all people should know you never leave great conflict unscathed." Harry muttered, the hairs at the back of his neck standing on end for how close this man was to him. A hand was placed on his shoulder, it wasn't comforting, he doubt it was meant to be…he didn't need comforting, the past was the past. He had to live with that…he did live with that.

"Harry…I can't force you to do anything, but I honestly believe you are the only person I will be able to trust with this task." It was convincing, the sincerity, the smooth baritone of truth and compassion. An easy mix that washed over you and let you believe every word, hair raising and tense.

Harry spun around to face Bruce, green eyes searching for a moment before he pressed a hand against a firm chest, the muscles twitching almost in reflex under his palm.

He leaned in, a hair's breadth away from the man's ear, his lips almost brushing the soft skin, his breath so hot that something stirred within the man. A pulse, never a skip of a heartbeat, but almost a tingle that crawled its way under his skin, his hands twitching to _hold_ something, perhaps that too small waist.

"I know you're using me. Don't think me fooled, I see how you hungrily search out what little is there of my world, what little is there of _MACUSA_. If you really want that information…I'm afraid you'll have to try much _harder_ , Bruce." His lips had definitely traced the edge of the man's ear. He was positive he had the man off guard, off his game. Just payback for the hell he put him through, having to deal with the brat of a son he had, or the everlasting taunting, with his damn performance sheet held above his head as a threat. Bruce Wayne was straight, this was sure to creep him out if he thought he was remotely interested in him sexually.

Right?

Before he could even back away, strong arms clamped around his waist, a handheld dangerously low, almost cupping the rounded flesh of his ass. He gasped in shock, green eyes going wide for a moment, his body held captive in the smirking, infuriating, arseho-

"You sure you want to play that game Ha-rr-y. After all, I always get what I want in the end, getting you to share what you have on MACUSA will be a walk in the park after I'm done with you." Bruce almost hissed, his eyes gleaming at the challenge, that hand so dangerously low dipping under rough cotton to trace bare soft skin. If Harry hadn't any control he would have shivered at the touch, it had been a while…and he could just feel the tension throbbing under his skin, a burning crawl that if this was anyone else he might have appreciated.

"You're straight!" Harry hissed, fighting to pull away, Bruce's large hand pried furiously away from his ass.

The damn pervert!

"Oh Harry are you scared _bunny_. Afraid that the big bad wolf might just eat you alive." Bruce smirked, allowing the furious man to push him away as he stormed past him.

"This _agai_ n is sexual harassment _Mr. Wayne_. I can have you on charges if I-"

"Billionaire, business tycoon and philanthropist bunny. If anyone here will be brought up on charges it would be you love." Bruce smirked, his hands crossed over his chest as he leaned against the gurney.

Harry had to count to ten backwards. He really had to or he was going to hex the piece of shi-

"Contemplating murder is another black mark." Bruce grinned, watching as Harry stormed off, his shirt riding up for a moment, the edge of fading blue in sight before it was once more hidden.

A tattoo?

"So Merlin help me if that toe rag calls me _bunny_ again!" Harry's angry hiss from upstairs, an outburst that Bruce couldn't help but chuckle as he made his way to the monitors.

He didn't dwell on how Harry felt pressed against him, the firm swell of his ass, bare against his palm…he hadn't been wearing underwear, his hot breath in his ear and the lingering smell of chocolate mixed with his own cologne. He felt it, the slight throb in his pants, heated…ready, wanting to just-

A perfect…he wasn't attracted to men.

He wasn't.

Bruce glared down at his hand before quickly bringing up the file of Tim Drake…the boy who was ready to become his Robin, the boy that if things went south he would adopt…it was complicated now.

He had Damian to think about…he hadn't even broken the news to the brat yet, somehow he had a feeling this particular news was already broken.

* * *

"Look kid, I can't deal with your pissy attitu—what's wrong?" Harry trailed off in his tirade, the last few word he had type quickly saved as he watched Damian crawl through his bedroom window. How did he even get up…oh right, bat kid.

Of course, Damian didn't answer, he never did. It was clockwork how the kid would sneak into his room, sit with his foot crossed over one leg on the chaise and just stare him down. Of course, he would ignore the brat at times or say things that would piss him off just because.

It was different though, he didn't sit in the chaise; instead he opted to shuffle into his bed and under his sheets, his back turned towards him.

"Damian?"

"Don't talk to me commoner!" said by hissed, fisting the pillow angrily before falling silent again.

With a roll of his eyes Harry just continued his paper, he was almost done at any rate. If the git hadn't distracted him today with his flimsy play at manipulation he-

"My father is an idiot!" Damian hissed suddenly, Harry would never admit that he had jumped even a tiny bit.

"Who does this Tim Drake think he even is?! _I'm_ the batman's biological son, it's my birthright to be the next Robin, not some washed up soon to be orphan…"

"I am an orphan." Harry deadpanned, squinting, till he gave up the fight and actually took out his reading glasses. His eyesight might have been for the most part corrected, but long hours around a laptop would strain anyone's eyes.

"You're acceptable for an orphan." Damian sniffed, glare in place when he heard Harry mockingly coo at his supposed cuteness.

Shutting down his laptop, Harry stretched out on the bed, eyes straying to the obviously sulking kid.

"Maybe instead of bottling it up, you could actually talk to your father instead of exploding when he actually tries to reach out."

Damian remained silent, Harry didn't expect anything less. Heaving another sigh, he silently pulled the sheets over the ten-year old's shoulder, ignore how tense he had become. Without thought, he kissed Damian's forehead before gently carding his hand through his short hair.

"Just give that a thought before you go hating everyone brat." Harry yawned before leaving for the bathroom.

He didn't notice how Damian's body trembled, his hand placed on his forehead, his eyes strangely shine, but not a tear would fall.

"I still hate you." Damian muttered under his breath, silently lulled to sleep by the warm scent of chocolate.


	10. Chapter 10

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Young Justice._ **

* * *

_Is it too late?_

_Is it…_

_Before it ever started did we…did I lose?_

_Had it been over long before it had ever begun?_

_"_ _Hermione just!-Just let me in! Please don't…please don't leave me too!" Harry called desperately, forehead pressed against the cold wooden door, the latch a continuous shake, iron chain pulled against iron chain._

_"_ _Hermione!" No reply, just silence…like it had been for days, weeks…he lost count at this point. Time wasn't a concept anymore, the days bled into nights and nights into days, outside the skies would rumble, the gods wept, rain that should have been soothing, clear.., mere shards of tainted grey, a stained glide across their face and caresses upon cut riddled skinned. Unhealed…the magic had to be saved for the more dangerous things, life threatening things._

_Who would complain about a simple cut when a few doors down Lavender Brown screamed in horror for her lost leg, a first year a few halls below battling for his life after being disembowelled, muggle torture; it wasn't something expected by Voldemort…but what could you expect really from a man less than human._

_"_ _Hermione—I…" What could he possibly say? That he understood, that he felt her pain? He mourned too, he was hurt, tortured by Ron's death because the first thought in his bloody head was what if—what if you had just stayed back!_

_What if wasn't going to help Hermione—Madam Pomphrey, she said the girl was pregnant, she was pregnant and the father of her baby was dead. He hadn't come back weeks after he should have…Death Eaters taunted them, cheered in his defeat, sang how they desecrated his body._

_This bloody war with no end and all he could think about what was what if._

_Harry clenched his hands in frustration before sighing in defeat for now, he would try later he had to clear his head._

* * *

_"_ _You look ridiculous Potter. Do us all a favour and go mope somewhere else, what little is left of us in this school would very much appreciate some respite from all this gloom." The voice was deep, snappish without even trying, but obviously tired and something more…anxious maybe?_

_"_ _Zabini, I thought I told you to leave me alone. Just crawl back into whatever little hole you've been huddled up in with your pet ferret. I hear they get spectacularly spooked by a bit of thunder." Harry muttered, his eyes trained on the gathering thunder storm over the forbidden forest. Lightning danced along the lines of dark full clouds, a staining paint that seeped into every groove, every dip. It wasn't natural, the sharp scent of spent magic burned at his nose, the air was tainted, the story of spells being shot, witches and wizards alike falling…Dumbledore tumbling to his death._

_"_ _Are you…the younger years they're terrified. Slytherin, Ravenclaw…even you idiot Gryffindors. They want to know this will end." Blaise muttered, it was if he wasn't truly speaking to Harry, the wind blowing the ends of his robe sleeve, worn and old like almost everyone held up Hogwarts castle. The material barely brushed Harry's skin, the young man surprisingly moved to sit beside the silent Gryffindor, his long legs hanging over the ledge._

_They didn't speak, simply listened to the sounds around them, the gloom as yet another student wailed for the death of their parent, the veiled hope when news over the Wizarding Wireless revealed one less village had been attacked than the last._

_"_ _Are you afraid Blaise?" Harry whispered, beautiful green eyes almost seemed lost in a trance, seeing thing none of them would ever see. It was a rumour, but he believed Harry Potter saw every move You-Know-Who had made, experienced the tortures as if he were there…saw through the Dark Lord's eyes._

_"_ _Please! Cowardice is for you blundering Gryffindors and spineless Hufflepuffs." Blaise sneered, though his hand trembled. He almost flinched when a pale hand steadied his own, a strange yet pleasing contrast against deep mocha, for some reason his chest throbbed._

_"_ _It's ok, because I'm afraid too." Harry whispered, his eyes never straying from the forbidden forest, his hand leaving a cold trail against Blaise's warm skin._

* * *

_"_ _Blaise—maybe—we shouldn't—be…" Harry gasped, Blaise was determined, his back pressed against the cold walls of the castle, bearing down on him, stealing ever word with a heated kiss, strong hands against the exposed skin of his sides._

_He was lost, hopelessly kissing back, their lips sticking for a moment, a teasing touch. He didn't even understand it, Blaise was fierce, selfish, and cruel even, but for some reason the wizard was always there. He didn't allow him to wallow in his guilt over Ron's death, or not saving that little girl that got torn to pieces by Greyback, just casualties he would say in his ever detached way. It should have disgusted him, the complete lack of concern for life other than his own, but in a strange sense it was refreshing. Blaise Zabini didn't expect anything from him._

**_The world doesn't revolve around you Potter, they die because they die and that's it. If they are too weak to keep surviving then that's their problem, not yours._ **

_Harry barely managed to catch Blaise's hand, the clasp of his pants opened and his shirt pulled out to reveal his trembling skin._

_"_ _We can't…" Harry whispered, gasping for breath as he leaned against Blaise's bare chest, he could feel the heavy beat of the man's heart, the strong grip around his waist. Blaise merely hummed before pulling away slightly, deep dark eyes searching for something…anything._

_"_ _We can't or_ _**you** _ _won't, Harry." A soft kiss was placed at his neck, not quite reaching the sensitive spot right which was right under his ear, but close enough that he couldn't help but shiver._

_"_ _I'm going to die tonight. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I let you get a taste of something you'll so obviously mourn for the rest of your life." Harry smirked, his hands running through Blaise's hair, through the war he hadn't been able to cut it low like he preferred._

_"_ _Pity, and here I thought we could celebrate our desperate attempt to give you a taste of normal. Newlyweds normally have sex Potter-Zabini. " Blaise returned the smirk, eyes alight when he spied the pretty silver._

_"_ _Look on the bright side, when I die, you're entitled to all my family's wealth. We might not be lords, but it's enough." Harry grinned before righting his clothes, walking past Blaise as he straightened his tie himself. He didn't get far when a hand suddenly clasped around his arm._

_"_ _Survive and this marriage can actually continue as more than a means for normal through war." Blaise spoke seriously, something unreadable in his eyes, something Harry wanted but…it felt so wrong._

_Like what they were doing would be the biggest mistake of their lives._

_"_ _Zabini, is this your way of actually confessing love for a half-blood you pitied." Harry smirked before quickly leaving. Not without hearing the man's whispered words._

**_We married on a whim, trying to live that one last dream before we all died at the hands of the Dark Lord…it doesn't change the fact that I actually want you. A half-blood._ **

* * *

_He couldn't breathe… he was running, the building was crumbling, spells fired, Hogwarts is caving in! Hogwarts's caving in and he was running through its halls. His thighs burned, muscles torn, blood soaking through his clothes, and behind him Voldemort, he was in the shadows, he was in the air he breathed—he was everywhere!_

_His heart clenched—it wasn't from fear—adrenaline fierce through his blood as he reached the top of the crumbling tower, the ground under his feet shifting, the crumbling of dirt loud in his ear and rise of dust burning at his throat._

_"_ _And the boy runs to meet his end! You should have stayed dead in the forest Harry Potter!" Voldemort hissed, materializing so suddenly in a cloud of black dust, his robes like a vice that wrapped around his neck, choking, threatening to pull his head tortuously slow from his body._

_"_ _You were right—that wand will always fail you! It won't make you more powerful, it will spell your defeat!" Harry spat out, struggling against the binds around his neck, blood bleeding into his eyes as his feet fought for purchase on crumbling stone._

_"_ _I killed Snape! I am its master!" Voldemort hissed, every word a sibilant rasp, even as uncertainty flickered within blood red eyes._

_"_ _Come Tom, let's finish this how it started! Only you and I!" Harry raged, lunging forward his hands like hooks in the malevolent wizard's robes as they tumbled to their deaths in the open cavern below._

* * *

_It hadn't gone as planned, Voldemort had apparated and brought him along for the ride. They landed here, wherever_ _**here** _ _was, dead bodies strewn around them locked at wand point as their magic blazed around them._

_The air was heavy with it, gravity reversed for everything around them, trees rooted up from their safety net, rocks zooming through the air, a cloud of violent magic like a dome that lashed out at anything around it._

_Red and green, wands splitting up the centre, shouts of rage and heavy force, either they both would fall or one would triumph._

_The earth split, the magic was too much, the skies tore open as lightning crackled around them the land erupting in wicked flames. He was knocked off his feet, an explosion for miles, a violent force that swept through and tore everything asunder, Voldemort's fading scream of outrage, of pain…of fear._

_He didn't know how long, years? Or just a few minutes, his name was being called and a shadow leaned over his prone form._

_"_ _Wake up you stupid Gryffindor! Harry! Harry!"_

_"_ _B-Blaise?" Harry croaked confused, his reaching hand held in a strong grip, a racing pulse underneath his fingers._

_"_ _You're Potter-Zabini Harry, you'd be a fool if I let a part of my future legacy squander his life for these blood traitors and muggle loving fools!"_

_Harry could only laugh, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth as his vision wavered, his body drained of magic and all that he was for the moment._

_You'll never change Blaise._

* * *

_It all fell apart._

_They were stupid_

_Marriage was something serious, it should never be a whim bred to life on the wings of battle worn desperation._

_On the wings of war._

_"_ _Just take the damn potion Harry!" Blaise shouted. He could see it in the man's eyes. He wasn't going to do it, and this would be the moment he would have pushed too much, asked too much. Bloody Gryffindor's and their morality, half-bloods and their inability to understand the world of a pureblood. What they would always be entitled to without remorse._

_"_ _You know better than anyone that it would be a cold day in Anaon before I'll ever do that to someone! How could you-"_

_"_ _A baby Harry, isn't it what you always wanted?! A child you could call your own. Our bab-"_

_"_ _Don't you dare use that against me! Merlin! You haven't changed one bit have you. You're still that pitiful entitled pureblood that can't see beyond his own selfishness!" Blaise didn't even flinch, he expected it really. Back the wizard into a corner and he would lash out the only way he knew how, he wouldn't physically harm you, wouldn't use his magic. He would just rip you apart with his words…with sharp green eyes that of course would shine with guilt._

_"_ _Take the potion Harry. It's either that or you force my hand and I'll get a second spouse as is my right. Mother has already made the arrangements even, she was never overly fond of you." Blaise finished coldly, watching as something flickered behind green eyes…a realization of sort._

_"_ _Do you even care what it will do to me?" Harry asked, there was nothing in his voice, his fingers fiddling with the silver ring that felt like a heavy burden he had worn for years._

_In a sense it was._

_"_ _Take the potion, or I'll have another spouse, a wife this time." Blaise said simply before leaving his husband's private rooms. He didn't get far when Harry suddenly spoke up._

_"_ _And if I file for divorce?"_

_Blaise snorted at that, who did Harry think he was fooling. They both knew he loved too much to do something like that. He would either give up his morality and carry his heir himself or watch as the heir grew within the womb of his new wife._

_Either way, he would have an heir; his inheritance secured._

_"_ _We both know you can't. You're too much of a Gryffindor at heart to go through with it, the same way you can't go through with something as simple as a potion." With that Blaise left, he did not see how hard emerald eyes had become, cold chips and nails that dug into the soft skin of his palm, a sudden crack into the bedroom windows as he fought down the wild movements of his magic._

Harry woke violently from his sleep, his chest heaving as the sheets tangled around his feet. His back felt wet, soaked with sweat, his skin sticky and unbearable hot, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. He looked to the side, where Damian should have been, but by the feel of the cool sheets, he must have left earlier in the night.

"Bad dream?" He didn't even have the energy to jump at the looming presence at his door. Bruce Wayne held the knob hesitantly, not quite inside the room as yet, the amber light of the hall creeping past him and across silk sheets. There was a gentle pitter-patter of rain drops against the windowpane, the sky terribly grey even at this hour, when the sun should have been up by now. 9:30 am, it looked like it could be 3:00 am, with chirping crickets and too cold wind.

"I drove him myself, you were impossible to wake." Bruce frowned as he closed the door behind him. Harry still wouldn't answer him, his gaze trained on his bare finger…was he thinking about his divorce? He had been calling a name, Blaise…cursing him for being the asshole he always was.

"Harry…" he asked hesitantly, gently sitting beside the still man, his chest was heaving and his skin was flushed. He thought to reach out, shake the man back to reality, he almost did when Harry so suddenly stood up, making to remove his shirt.

"I'm ok Mr. Wayne." Harry muttered, he seemed to be in a mood, uncaring as he partially undressed, a slim figure, sweat slicked skin. It was when he turned his back that Bruce felt his hands truly twitch to touch something he had no right touching. Across the expanse of Harry's back, a masterpiece revealed secrets he could hardly understand. Dream catchers, one central large one with a smaller partially interwoven one hanging at the bottom. Large and small feathers beautiful colours and tiny beads woven into the spidery design of sharp yet fine lines. Some of the feathers, one longer than rest dipped dangerously low at the curve of his back.

"It's bleeding."

"Huh?" Harry questioned, glancing over his shoulder as if he was just waking from his daze, eyes widening when he noticed where Bruce's gaze was trained.

"Wait here!" Bruce voice brooked no arguments, the man swiftly leaving for Harry's bathroom the sound of something cluttering to the ground an angry curse startling to Harry's sleep muddled mind. Bruce was back, a cloth thrown over his shoulder and a small bowl of water, from the smell of it, some kind antibacterial remedy was infused in the water.

"Mr. Wayne, I can do that my-" Harry immediately protested, almost flinching away as the man none too gently positioned him between his strong thighs as he sat, his back facing him.

"Harry, just stay still." Bruce muttered, his fingers tracing the beautiful design, every twist and turn, a drag of skin that had Harry's breath deepen, goose bumps rising, hot breath almost too close. There was this tension that neither one dared to break as Bruce worked, dragging the cold cloth over the spill of blood that seeped through sharp lines. Bruce himself couldn't place why he would feel the way he did in that moment, why he was tempted to place his lips on supple skin. As if he had any right to…as if he was even remotely interested in the man that stood uncomfortably in front of him.

He didn't like emotions he couldn't place. They had only made a fool of him, made him act too out of character or woke something dark inside his blood. Like Talia the woman who had caught him in her sneer, made him _feel_ things he as Batman should never feel.

Let his focus waver if only for a second-

"A shaman…he gave it to me. Infused it with his own essence as a gift, it should ward bad dreams away. The thing with Potter luck, is that it will always make a mess of a good thing. If my dreams are too raw, too deep, his magic clashes with my own, mine overpowers and the dreamcatcher bleeds." Harry spoke softly, flinching ever so much as the cloth dipped to his lower back, another sensitive point of his.

How disgusting that he would feel this way after dreaming of his once husband, the war…the end of their relationship. He didn't like it…and maybe just maybe he should leave Wayne Manor. They could work something out, it was better than digging himself in some strange cavern he might not be able to crawl out of.

"A dream about your ex-husband? " Bruce ventured carefully, he knew that right now, in this moment…Harry didn't need his teasing. Probably didn't need him fishing for information if that narrowed gaze he received was anything.

Harry pulled away before reaching for his shirt again, only to see it was stained with blood. With a sigh Harry ignored the man's heavy gaze, pulling a new shirt from his closet, before dressing.

"MACUSA has a treaty with the president of the United States of America. They have an established board with delegates from both the muggle or No-Maj as they call it here, and the wizarding world. Your first clue Mr. Wayne, now if you'll excuse me, I have a lesson with Alfred on basic medical aid." Harry huffed before leaving the room.

A distraction from his original question he could clearly see. It was odd how he strangely didn't care about MACUSA, but instead Harry's obviously emotional past. That seemed far more a thought that brought about Alfred's knowing stare and satisfied smile.

Damn it!

* * *

"It's as we feared Mr. Wayne, Mr Drake—he has three days the most, and even that's pushing it." The doctor spoke quietly, as if raising his voice just a decibel louder would destroy the quiet peace that surrounded them. They both stood outside the private room, the curtains pulled away from the glass panels to reveal a frail looking man, broken down from Sarcoidosis. An oxygen mask was over his mouth, a tired smile on his face as he held the hand of his only son. A son who looked broken, depressed and filled with denial.

"–if we had caught it sooner or…"

"There's nothing more you could have done. Has Janet-"

"Mrs. Drake refuses to see him, and won't even look at her son. She wants to give up full custody, she'll be leaving for Aruba." The woman had broken down in the doctor's arms, it was too much she said. She didn't want any of this, she didn't sign up for it. She would not listen to the efforts to calm her, she was positive her son would do much better without her.

Bruce said nothing at that, a frown in place before he silently entered the room, the doctor looking on in sympathy. Perhaps Tim Drake would be better off with Janet, he needed balance.

Bruce Wayne could give him balance.

* * *

"I'm glad you agreed." Jack croaked as he pulled away the oxygen mask. Tim seemingly flinched at his father's voice.

"I was so wrong, so-so wrong. Tim, the Robin, I shouldn't have ever made you stop, it was a large part of who-" Jack gasped out, fighting to sit up, only barely managing it from Bruce's help.

"Dad you were just worried. I get it you don't- I was pulling away from you and-"

"You called him Dad, when he called you dad I got so jealous." Jack interrupted, trembling hands carding through his son's silky black hair. He looked at Bruce who remained silent through it all. He didn't think it was his place to say anything.

"I found out my son was some crime fighting hero, his mentor was _Batman_ , the same Batman that was _Bruce Wayne_ , my company rival-I just exploded."

"And now I'm going to die and I'll never make up for the childhood I gave you or better yet didn't give you. You practically raised yourself, it shouldn't be something to be proud of."

"Dad please, just—I forgave you! I didn't make it any easier on you, it's not like I tried to make you understand—I…" Tim clenched his fist as he looked down, his shoulders trembling, silent drops of tears dotting his hands.

"You take care of him, you hear me Wayne!" Jack glared, he was being serious. The least he could do before he left this world was make sure his son would be ok. Janet… poor Janet wasn't made for this, not the family life, not a mother.

"You have my word." Bruce spoke seriously, not even flinching as Tim suddenly left the room, the chair pushed back furiously.

"Take care of my boy…your boy Bruce. He's always been more yours than mine." Jack smiled bitterly, dark brown eyes sad before he let himself be pulled into a medicated sleep.

* * *

He was ready for it, Tim throwing himself at him, shoulders shaking but not a sound out of his mouth.

"Dad…he's going to die. My father is going to die and all I've ever given him is grief. I was so obsessed when I found out you were Batman and Dick was Nightwing I just-"

Bruce hesitated for a moment before he enveloped the thirteen year old in a tight hug. What could he say? Nothing in this situation was alright, the boy had a perfectly healthy mother yet hear he was on the verge of adoption anyway.

"The Robin…can I have a break, just to-" Tim questioned softly, his hands held tight in Bruce's shirt.

"You don't need to ask Tim. I guess it's a lucky thing we're on vacation huh?" Bruce cracked a sad smile, Tim managing one just as painful before burying his face again.

Bruce looked up at the shadow that disappeared around the corner.

"Damian." He sighed tired in that moment.

A vacation to make things right with his biological son, yet nothing seemed to be going right.

* * *

"What is it this time?" Harry muttered beside Alfred, watching as Damian stormed up the stairs, of course the school had called him 'the mother' to complain about the boy skipping classes yet again.

"Perhaps our lessons should be left for another day Harry. It seems Master Damian is in need of his mother." Alfred drawled as he made work of packing up the medical material he had used for demonstration.

"Alfred, this new joke of yours is _not_ funny!" Harry glared, before storming up the stairs himself, just like Damian.

"With an attitude like that, no wonder people believe the impossible that you gave birth to that hellion." Alfred chuckled, tapping himself on the back as he went on his way.

* * *

This was ridiculous, here he was knocking on his own room door because Damian saw it necessary to occupy _his_ room. With a sigh he went in, not surprised to see the still lump in his bed, the silk sheets pulled over his head.

"Dami-"

"You should just leave! I don't want you here and neither does my dad, you were forced on him by that stupid butler!" Damian spat out, refusing to even budge when the sheets beside him shifted. Harry gave the child an unreadable look before he threw himself beside him, hand sprawled across the many pillows.

"You're probably right, I should leave. I hate these sudden new feelings that sprout up all of a sudden. This was my chance of normal, not-" attraction to my sponsor when I just got divorced he would have said, but didn't bother to finish his statement.

There was silence for a moment, only filled by the rustling of trees outside, the sound of Alfred ordering the kitchen staff to begin preparations for the evening meal, and Mr. Tomin's truck sputtering down the driveway as it always did.

"I don't want him here, he'll ruin everything we haven't even connecte-!" Damian muttered, his voice muffled by the sheets. He had trailed off suddenly, realizing he was opening up himself to someone he claim to hate, someone he wanted gone as much as this Tim Drake.

Damian flinched when he felt arms suddenly circle him, it was strange. He had never been hugged in his life, his mother wouldn't spare him such unnecessary actions, and Ra's al Ghul when he was alive wasn't much of a tactile person.

It was warm, and the hold tight. It made him tremble and stupid salt water spilled down his cheek freely for once. Was this how Tim Drake felt in his father's arms…was this how it felt to have a parent, a _true_ parent.

"There is something both of you are ignoring, I've been here long enough to see it. Perhaps instead of hating Tim Drake who has nothing to do with your situation, you'll finally talk to your dad." Harry whispered, watching as the child pulled the sheets from his head. He wouldn't look at him, who would when caught in such a vulnerable situation.

"You sound like Dick!" Damian sneered, pulling harshly away from Harry before burrowing further into the sheets. That side of the bed might as well be dubbed his spot, for how many nights he would sleep there.

Harry could only shake his head, his hand stretched to the ceiling as he frowned at his bare finger.

"Hey Damian…why do you keep sleeping here? You hate me remember?"

Damian said nothing at first, listening as Bruce arrived down stairs, the man shouting for Damian, footsteps echoing up the stairs.

It looked like their talk would be sooner than later.

"Because you're not like her…you're not like my mother." Damian muttered truthfully, burying his head under the covers as the doors silently swung open.


	11. Chapter 11

"-find it on the second basement level. There will be three guards on your 6 o'clock. Two more on your right, and a coding system to deactivate the laser system." Batman spoke smoothly through the com set. Overhead thunder rumbled, getting louder by the second as rain poured in heavy torrents, sliding off his suit were he was perched on a roaring gargoyle. His eyes were trained on the building up ahead, a branch of Lex Corp and within its basement a shipment of kryptonite based chemicals.

The Justice League had called…no Superman had. He knew Gotham was his territory, that even though he was 'a part' of the Justice League, he didn't want anyone but the Bat in his precious city. Gotham, she was a prickly woman, she would lash out at those she hadn't accepted herself; her chaos would reign supreme should her order be upset.

"You sure he can do this?" Flash voice was muffled, a bag of hot dogs in his hand as he stuffed his face with enthusiasm, feet dangling childishly as he always did when seated in high places. Especially when we was along on the ride with Batman, it amused him.

"What are you doing here Flash?" Batman would have sighed in annoyance, but was too focussed on the crackling feed over his com. Damian hadn't replied yet, didn't sound like he had even received his mission details as the sound of dragging Kevlar in what he assumed was the wind shaft of the building loud in his ear.

"Moral support?" Flash ventured with a shrug, before stuffing his face again, it was a miracle his hot dogs hadn't gotten soggy in the constant downpour. The weather man sure had a lot to answer for, because this was definitely not clear night skies. Then again, could anything truly be predicted when it came on to Gotham city and her dry sense of humour.

"Rob—Dami—Do you copy?" Batman narrowed his eyes, ignoring Flash's heavy gaze, completely aware of his slip. He almost called Damian Robin, when they all knew he wasn't, not with Tim around. Damian's place had always been up in the air, it didn't help that neither he nor his son had ventured to break that last piece of tension between them. Alfred didn't approve and Harry, Harry just wanted them to get over it so they could stop making his life miserable. Apparently he had become the pseudo counsellor for the brat at night, when he was supposed to be working on his paper for his Master's degree, plus the assignment Alfred had given him on basic healing.

He couldn't help the snort at that, when he pictured annoyed green eyes, and an entitled brat refusing to budge from the man's bed, apparently it was Damian's right to sleep wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted and no commoner would tell him otherwise.

"You got it bad." Flash sing-songed, as he grinned at his best friend. He could just tell the man was thinking of that spit fire that lived in his house, a 'replacement' for Alfred. Of course he being the resourceful, not nosey friend he was got all the details from Dick, Alfred and that snappish mini-Bruce. A love match, it was so ridiculous he couldn't help but laugh in the man's face when he found out; who would think Alfred would go so far to get his 'little boy' hitched. Bruce had not been amused, a testament to the fact that he had found himself expertly tied up on the side of the GCPD building, just hanging like some strange red and gold piñata.

"Flash this is not the ti-"

"Admit it, you have the hots for your little not so little sponsee…is that even a word?" Flash scratched his head confused, teasing grin sliding from its place as he contemplated this new issue.

"I'm not gay-"

"Gay for love!" Flash crowed, Batman's heated glare sliding right off him like it always did. You couldn't be the man's best friend and not be immune to his ever changing moods. Besides, deep down it wasn't like Bruce was an actual hard ass. He was even worse than flash on the mischievous side.

Ok…maybe he was pushing it.

"-and even if I was, I'm _not_ attracted to my beneficiary, that's the better word not sponsee." Batman steamrolled as if Flash hadn't interrupted him, before giving up the fight; rolling his eyes at the ridiculousness of their conversation.

Flash childishly stuck out his tongue at that, before bracing back on his elbows, eyes trained on the rain droplets as they descended. For a moment they slowed significantly, clear strange shapes that sparkled in the non-existent natural light, before time returned to its natural flow and the rain pelted his skin.

"So if your _beneficiary_ was interested in some old hot shot at your charity ball th-"

"What makes you think I'd invite him?" Batman tapped at his com, he still hadn't heard anything from Damian, maybe he should go in himself, but no…tonight would be the night. He needed Damian to complete this mission himself, open the doors finally for conversation.

"Cause it's not going to be your secretary Roselle-she annoys you-and you're attracted to precious little Harry, you just won't admit it because Alfred set this whole thing up…and you're not 'gay'." Flash grin was really too wide, he wasn't going to let the topic drop.

Batman didn't say anything, making to stand at the continued silence at the other end of the feed. It would have been easy to dismiss Flash at any other time, but damn it, whatever the man said was true. He was attracted to Harry; when he was near it was like something itched under his skin, and he couldn't help but set off the little bunny's short temper. Couldn't help the need to run his hand along the lines of his dreamcatcher, feel soft skin under his palm, hold the small waist… keep him captive as he fought him every step of the way. He couldn't even use the excuse that it was the eyes… green eyes that at their first meeting reminded him of Talia.

Somehow, without him even realizing Harry Potter had stolen his attention, sneaked into his awareness without a care. Attitude and lack of respect in one slim package.

"He's recently divorced." Bruce muttered, pausing as the feed crackled for a second.

"You should go for it. I mean if what your kid said is true your little Harry actually-" Flash cut his conversation as finally Damian's stiff voice sounded over the com. Affirming he had heard his father, and was already way past the coded door.

"He's good you know. He deserves to be Robin just as much as Tim." Flash spoke seriously, watching as Batman launched himself from the gargoyle without a word, the flash of lightning upsetting some pure creature below, a loud screeching burning at his ear.

Oh wait…that was a man.

With a shrug Flash went after Batman, he was on this mission too just not officially as Justice League. Someone had to do the transporting if any of those chemicals survived the night.

* * *

Damian twirled on the ball of his feet, a violent twist of an arm as he blocked the oncoming punch, a switch of air as the assailant went sprawling in the opposite wall, the force so much that small cracks split up the centre on concrete. Another attacked; outraged, giving away his position with his furious growl, he didn't get far, Damian fist twisted in the man's face, a resounding crack and crunch of bones. He was grinning, the rush of adrenaline…the fight, the drive, this was what he lived for! He wasn't cut out to play house for long, being continuously grounded only pushed his drive, made him crave the one thing he knew he could do right.

"Damian don't…" His father's voice crackled over the feed, he knew what he was going to say. He was on too much of a high to even be annoyed at the man's off handed implications.

"I know, I know don't kill them!" Damian muttered, back flipping from another attack, these men were dumb. Even as skilled as he was, how could Lex Luthor's goons have so much trouble with just one kid... assassin trained and with little restraint type of kid… but that was only a technicality.

"I was going to say don't take too long, you have ten minutes before Lex Luthor realizes this facility has been hit." Batman drawled over the feed, Damian almost lost his footing at that, sliding down the metal lined tunnel of the second basement level. Did his dad just inadvertently reveal that he really did trust him, and all that talk a few weeks back…wasn't just talk?

"I can do it in eight!" Damian couldn't help his grin, the sound of his steel plated boots loud as he zoomed down the tunnel, the air getting colder before he flipped off the metal and landed on solid ground, silent…like he was trained.

"Make that five, Luthor just arrived."

Damian didn't respond, he could make it in three, eyes set on the containment boxes set on ice. He made quick work attaching explosives to each box, careful to store a sample in his new utility belt. Dad had said get a sample, if he couldn't transport all of the target before discovery.

"Two minutes Damian, make it quick. You have an escape route…"

"Ventilation shaft at my 3 o'clock, I know." Damian finished, grinning at his father's low hum. It felt good working like this, like they were really a team and he was the Robin, not Ti—just like that his good mood plummeted.

He scowled before quickly scaling the side wall, his hood falling off for a second as he twisted his body at an odd angle upside down, just like Dick taught him—working at a circus had its perks it seemed—the sound of rushed voices coming fast down the tunnels were loud in his ear. He was sliding through the vent before anyone could see him, the detonator set in his hands already.

"Dynamite go-"

"Boom" Batman finished the statement, Damian grinning as he slid out the side of the building, landing neatly on his feet as small explosions went off in the background. He didn't linger, quickly pulling up his hood as he made himself scarce on the private property, sky lights shining on the position he had previously stood. No one was the wiser as his shadow silently scaled the neighbouring building, disappearing with the soft hiss of a grappling hook and the flap of his not so much cloak behind him.

* * *

"Kid you were awesome in there!" Flash crowed excitedly, grin wide as Damian silently made his way to their checkpoint. It was an abandoned park, there wasn't traffic for miles or even the sound of civilians, just wind and the rain that was no longer a pour but instead silent drops on their skin.

"You and the old man make a seriously good team. You know, you should reconsider joining 'The Team', even Tim-" Flash cut himself off right there, his mouth was going to get him in trouble one day he was sure, both Batman and the kid glaring darkly at him. If he was anybody else he would have probably shat himself on spot, lucky for him he wasn't anybody else… he heard from Wally how difficult those stains were to get out—he didn't even want to know.

"It wasn't anything difficult." Damian sniffed unimpressed, as he handed over the test-tube to his father.

"Yes, but you executed the mission with the utmost efficiency." Batman praised, unaware of the widening of Damian's green eyes, too focused on examining the strange green yet almost translucent liquid. Even Flash's mouth hung open slightly at that, Batman outright praised his little bird!

"You should definitely go for it! Harry I mean, if he can get you to-"

" _He_ didn't get me to do anything—here get it to the watchtower, I'm sure the 'big man' is having an aneurism with the fact that kryptonite of any form is in my hands." Bruce drawled, handing over the tube to Flash without fanfare.

"You're talking about Harry." Damian frowned, eyes suspicious, when his father didn't answer.

"And you have kryptonite in your cave!" Damian frowned, still being ignored.

"Look at it this way Bruce, it's not that you're gay you're just attracted to pretty things!" Flash grinned before speeding off, it was safer to be out of range if that tick over the man's eye was any indication.

"You _are_ talking about Harry. I'll let you know that I don't approve!" Damian glared with a huff, hands crossed over his chest as he stared up at his towering father.

"And here I thought you were actually warming up to him. What? His bed isn't comfortable enough these days?" Bruce grinned amused, his cowl pushed down as they both walked further into the park, an old rickety bench was just up ahead. It would have to do.

"It's you I don't approve of, get it right _old_ man!" Damian glared, not even realizing that he had offhandedly revealed that he might just like Harry after all. Bruce snorted at that before he finally turned to face his son.

"Damian, we need to talk." His tone was serious, it was time. They needed to clear the air no matter how uncomfortable it made them. Not only because soon Tim would be moving in…would be adopted, but because it was the right thing to do. Damian was his son, _his;_ he had a duty as a father but more so than duty, he wanted to fix this. He wanted this child that was his blood to understand he was accepted, that his hiccups in the beginning were just that. Talia had no place in their thoughts, or in his actions towards him.

"I know already, you don't have to spell it out. Tim Drake is your Robin!" Damian spat out bitterly, refusing to look at the man that was his father. He shouldn't have listened to Dick, nothing was going to change here, he didn't belong here as entitled as he behaved on the best of days.

"Damian I-"

"It's not fair! I'm your blood, not some washed up orphan that just looks like you! I don't care if-"

"Damian!" Bruce shouted, the boy wouldn't even let him talk, jumping to conclusions—like he would have done when he was the same age.

"-I came here because I wanted to be your son! I wanted to be you, work with you! You're _my_ father not that-" Damian shouted angrily, unwilling to hear his father, unwilling to take his rejection. He didn't even realize it, but tears spilled down his cheeks, his breath hitched and his throat clogged up.

"It's not my fault that you hate her! It's not! I didn't get a choice, if you didn't want me then you shouldn't have-" Damian's eyes widened, frozen in spot as the anger and hurt bubbled up inside him. Strong arms, powerful, pulling him into a warm chest, too warm. His father was down on his knees, his body cradled like child…like the child he was. A child that was lashing out at the world because he didn't know what else to do, he wasn't raised to express himself. Deep emotions were foreign, terrifying. Damian shuddered, his hands clenching and unclenching, this wasn't supposed to happening, Bruce was supposed to prove him right—his mother right—reject him like she had said.

He wasn't supposed to be on his knees in mud, hold so tight…comforting, he wasn't supposed to break down because he wasn't a little kid. He wasn't supposed to hold on so tight in return, burry his face in the grove of his father's neck and sob like some buffoon, because this was all he wanted. Because despite everything he was just a ten year old kid without a place in this world.

He wasn't-

"Damian, I don't care about that. You are my son, it doesn't matter who your mother is, where you came from…that fact won't change!" Bruce voice was fierce, yet the perfect hushed tone as his son trembled against him, his small arms tightening in his suit.

"I'm not like Dick, I-"

"The best version of you…the worst version of you, it doesn't matter as long as you are who you are at heart. I won't agree with everything you do—I—Damian, I was wrong when I just took you from that place that day-" At that Damian pulled away slightly, his mask slightly crooked, face stained with tears he would later deny.

"Wha-"

"I wasn't ready, didn't even know what I was doing, but just had to prove myself the 'batman'." Bruce frowned, head down for a moment as he thought about all his blunders, trying to act the arrogant fool. How he wouldn't listen to Dick until things had been made a royal mess.

"I made a mess of things before we even got started Damian. I just watched you fall in the beginning, silent…cold. I shouldn't have let that happen and now…Damian, you and Tim-"

Damian pulled away harshly at the mention at the boy, flinching away from Bruce's hands.

"It doesn't change anything does it, you're still-"

"He's my responsibility as much as you are mine Damian. I won't just-"

"He's going to be your son too…like Dick and that other one that-" Damian drew short when his father seemingly flinched, it wasn't that noticeable but he knew what to look for. He shouldn't have brought up the other one, just like Dick never brought up the other one…the Robin that died, a death his father blamed himself for. He was getting everything he had ever wanted, yet here he was selfish Damian al Ghul, the brat who couldn't see beyond himself for just a second, because this was all he had ever known. His mothe—Talia taught him how to take and take-

"I don't want him there, I don't but-"

Bruce sighed with a tired smile, before he rose from his kneeled position, uncaring of the mud on his knees or how soaked his head was from the rain that had quickly become a drizzle. It had tempted them to believe it would have ended, but continued on none the less, Gotham at her finest. Damian, his son was struggling, struggling like he would have…struggling like he did, Alfred being so patient as he raged at the man…broke his heart.

"There's no rule that says there must only be one Robin…" Bruce trailed off, brown eyes trained on the visage of his conflicted son. He could see the indecision in his mask less eyes; how he rubbed at the stray tears as if they were never there, yet his reddened face betrayed him.

"He's acceptable." Damian huffed, turning away from his father as he pulled his hood over his head.

"Harry I mean, he's acceptable. I'll have no one else, the old man isn't _that_ senile." And just like that the conversation was changed, the brat inside shining through once more.

"Of course." Bruce commented dryly, shaking his head as he turned on his com again, immediately being bombarded with Dick's anxious questions. Rapid fire that just wouldn't stop. He didn't know where the boy got it from, but he could sure as hell talk the ear off anyone at any given time. It wasn't him, and it wasn't Alfred…must be a genetic trait

"I mean it you know! You're not worthy, but he could do much worse than you." Damian sniffed affronted at being humoured, if the quirk of Bruce's lips were any indication.

"Ah, so you do like Harry." Bruce grinned, as he brought up the holographic computer. He said he was on vacation, it didn't mean he and Damian couldn't go find something to do…and hopefully one day it would be he, Damian and Tim.

"I didn't say that! He's infuriating and he keeps calling me _kid_. I just know he's laughing at me because he does this thing with his mouth that even _you_ do!"

"Are you even listening to me?! He's acceptable and that's it…stop ignoring me for Grayson father!" Damian shouted, glare fierce as he watched his father smirk in amusement, a chastising onto of his head.

The movement was so quick that Bruce was taken off guard for a moment, Damian had wrapped his arms around him, barely reaching his waist as he hid his face.

"Dad…I…"

They were having a moment, the pour of rain heavy again, the only sound were their steady breathing, warmth seeping between them. A fragile voice, so far removed from Damian _Wayne's_ usual bravado.

"It's ok, you don't need to say anything else…I understand." Bruce smiled sadly, the child held close to him, with Dick's curious calls fading in the background.

They would be alright, they weren't perfect yet, far from it…but they would be alright.

* * *

"Very good Harry, you've mastered the sutures. I don't doubt that should the time come you will perform with utmost precision. Oh forgive me, I haven't even asked you about your university course even once have I?" Alfred began with praise, watching as Harry placed the last suture in the practise doll. They were both in the Batcave, the ward section, where Harry was most days, trying to learn as much as he could from a dedicated teacher.

"Alfred…why did you want me here?" Harry queried offhandedly, careful to place the tools exactly where he had found them, before moving to the sink to wash his hand.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You must have a reason right? Bru-Mr. Wayne has his own reasons, he's using me…he wants to know more about MACUSA-" The butler almost smirk at the slip, Harry had made it his business to keep distance between him and Bruce by simple calling him Mr. Wayne. He was getting comfortable without even realizing it.

"Are you sure about that Harry—that he's using you…" Alfred interrupted smoothly, cloth flung over his hand as he watched Harry straighten up. Said man glanced over his shoulder, green eyes narrowed as he studied the butler.

"What other reason would he want me, than to use me for what I know?" Harry asked suspiciously, not liking the sudden glint in Alfred's eyes. Before Alfred could even answer the loud roar of the bat car's engine sounded through the cave, lights bright levels below.

It seemed Bruce and Damian had returned.

"The life he lives, it gets rather lonely I wager. Yet here you are, young…beautiful, good with his child…I wonder." Alfred drawled as he straightened his suit and moved to greet the young masters below.

Harry frowned at the man's back, his words ringing through his ears, flashes of the past weeks in his mind. Hot breath against his skin, rich smell of cologne, that strange throb within whenever the man was near…always near.

Harry what are you doing?!

Alfred didn't mean…

Bruce Wayne wasn't gay, he was a known playboy—but that was the past wasn't it?

But what if…

No, Alfred couldn't possibly mean—he didn't even care! He was not attracted to the man, he was _not_. He didn't have time for—he wasn't even his type and …

Bruce Wayne, was an asshole that liked pissing him off just because he could, it's not like the man would really-

"Now bunny, you're really pushing it. If you really wanted me undressed you could have just asked." Bruce smirked, watching as the man woke from his daze only to glare right back at him.

Harry's wand materialized in his hand, dangerous sparks flying from the end,

He was going to hex the toe-rag if it was the last thing he did, calling him bunny with that damn mocking smirk!

"Threatening bodily harm, magic or otherwise is another black mark." Bruce drawled, watching as the man steadily turned red, the grip of his wand dangerously tight. Behind him Alfred snorted, the man gently guiding a protesting Damian out of the cave.

"Urgh I _can't_ stand you _Bruce_!"


	12. Chapter 12

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Young Justice_ **

* * *

_Dear Neville,_

_It seems…and I'm loathe to admit it, I may be in just a tad bit of trouble. Now before you overreact and call the Calvary I'm fine! Completely fine and no… no one touched one hair on my pretty little head. I hope you know that yes, I'm rolling my eyes and yes, I know_ _you're_ _grinning like a loon you wanker._

_Do tell Hannah I said hello by the way, that's if you even muster the courage to speak to her. That being said, we all know you like her._

_Neville…I,_

_Remember that spot of trouble I was telling you about?_

_Well I…_

_I think I may be attracted to my sponsor._

_I…_

_It's stupid I know. He's an arrogant asshole, he knows every which way to piss me off, and insists on calling me that infernal nick name that I won't share because you are just as bad!_

_I despise him! And you know what he does?! He humours me Neville._

_Me! Harry James Potter! Defeater of Voldemort and…_

_Now I'm the one that sounds like an arrogant arse._

_Neville I don't…I'm attracted to him, but I don't want to be…_

_He's…he reminds me of Blaise._

_I know what you're going to say, but I…I actually loved him you know._

_He was my husband, even if or marriage was a…I didn't tell you about that did I._

_Why we married, but…_

_Neville…it's serious. I'm attracted to Bruce Wayne, my sponsor…_

_I don't…_

_What the hell am I supposed to do?_

_This wasn't supposed to happen, not here not now._

_I feel like a…_

_I just got divorced for Merlin's sake!_

_And I think…I might be delusional, because he's straight, a ladies man but…_

_I think he's attracted to me too._

_Neville, I…_

_I'm going to ignore it._

_It can be ignored right?_

_It's not like we…_

_I'll ignore it…all I have to do is put some space between us…_

_Maybe leave…_

_Yes maybe I should leave._

**_Harry Potter_ **

**_Unfortunately still Lord of the most Ancient and Noble house of Black._ **

* * *

A month later…

"Let's see, nachos, potato crisps… _chips_ , hot dogs, hot dog buns…"

"Salsa." Bruce whispered in Harry's ear, reaching over head where the jar was placed obscenely high. Harry gave the man a heated glare as he none too gently grabbed the jar from the man and flung it in the shopping cart. He made it his point to roll the cart down the aisle without a word, furious green eyes trained on the shopping list. Here he was, late for his bloody class because Bruce saw it necessary that he went shopping for his 'second task', obscene list in hand and that infuriating smirk.

"Ignoring me now _Bunny_ , how adult of you." Bruce drawled, hands trailing along the stacked cans as he followed closely behind the annoyed man.

"Whining for attention Mister Bruce, how adult of _you_." Harry spared him an acid glare, before Bruce could even retort, Damian came up to them both, stacks of donuts held in his arms an obvious twitch above his eye.

"You said he liked donuts." Damian muttered, moody as ever as he waited for the two bickering adults to acknowledge him. They had been like that from the moment they entered the supermarket, and why were they even in a supermarket?! This was what the staff at Wayne Manor was for, why did have to mingle with these nosey imbecilic civilians, especially that old granny that kept peering around the corner. She had been watching Harry and Bruce for some time now, sniffing in disapproval for whatever reason, until of course he put her in her place with a perfectly aimed glare.

Bruce grin slipped from his face for a moment, Damian was trying…really trying. He still didn't like Tim, or maybe it was the idea of him, yet here he was a hand full of donuts because he had heard his offhanded comment that Tim liked them. Perhaps it wouldn't be so hard to transition after all, and watching as Harry gently took the items and placed them in his cart, and amused stare at the 'not pouting' Damian, the bunny would probably smoothen out any rough patches.

"What a cute little boy. Wait isn't that Bruce Wayne?! That's his mysterious son then and who-" It seemed the crowd had gathered, well not really; people were minding their own business as they strolled past with their filled baskets and carts; who was anyone to deny them the right to 'stroll past' multiple times, eyes drawn to the green eyed stranger and his mini-me who in the same breath resembled Bruce Wayne greatly.

Bruce Wayne, who was in a run of the mill supermarket like someone of his 'class' belonged there.

"If you're done day dreaming Mr. Wayne, let's get this over with so I can actually go to my class that I'm _missing_ I might add!" Harry all but hissed, quickly annoyed by the too curious gaze and disapproving stares as many women alike looked from Bruce to him suspiciously.

"You should really do something about that attitude Harry, if you're not careful these unsuspecting innocent people might believe you're actually the mother of my wayward brat."

Both Damian and Harry wasted no time sharing their opinion with poisonous glares, so identical that he couldn't help but snort.

"Ha bloody Ha, Mr. Wayne." Harry drawled, obviously ignoring the man as he pushed the cart around the corner.

"Your flirting is disgusting father. Maybe you should take some tips from Grayson…better yet don't, every woman he has ever been with dumped him in spectacular fashion." Damian sniffed with a glare, before dutifully following after Harry. Bruce would have been mildly offended if his son didn't resemble ridiculously he might add, a pompous baby chick following after a pissed Mother hen.

He watched closely how the two interacted, fed off each other's emotions. You would think the two hated each other, until young green eyes would light up at whatever praise Harry had given, smirk similar to his own and all. A gentle hand carding through his son's short raven hair, only to be furiously pushed away by a scowling Damian, who very much did not appreciate it.

They looked like a…normal family. The fact that he could imagine Tim along with them, the studious teen holding on to every word as both he and Damian fought for Harry's attention made something odd throb within him.

"I would say for once Mr. Wayne, you've chosen a good one even if he's a young man. We folks were tired of your skanky arm accessories, it made the tabloids boring." An old woman sniffed beside him, promptly moving on with basket filled with fruits, tapping Harry on his shoulder to give him an apple.

An apple accepted by an incredulous stare and Damian's suspicious gaze.

Green eyes must have felt his heavy gaze, because no sooner than he realized, he was receiving yet another glare for his efforts.

_You should go for it_

Barry's voice echoed in his mind, the image of Harry staring his bare finger, recently divorced…the vulnerability in beautiful eyes the day he so gently wiped the blood from his tattooed back. Did he want to…did he want to go for it? To try and ensnare the spit fire in his grasp, hold on tight till there was no hope of escape from his grasp?

* * *

"- fine. It's going to be ok. It's not like you weren't part of the family already, this just makes it official." Tim sighed as he slumped on his bed, his packed bag falling with a light thud on the carpeted floor. With another sigh, he went sprawling, hands wide across silk sheets as he put the phone on speaker.

"Yeah, I'm sure Damian Wayne would agree with you" He couldn't help but roll his eyes at the thought. He hadn't met the kid yet, but from what little he heard, he was a brat, an infuriating brat with a daddy complex. He doubt they were going to get along, not like he was going to go out of his way to antagonize the kid, don't get him wrong.

" _Tim_ , just give him a chance. Trust me he isn't that bad, he'll probably insult you the first time he meets you, but look on the bright side Damian insults everyone. Our very own offensive baby brother." Dick sounded too amused for Tim's liking; and Grayson was supposed to be the level headed one? Please!

"And that's supposed to make everything better." Tim muttered moodily, rolling over unto his side, eyes trained on the slowly setting sun. It was a moment just like this, the sky a mixture of orange and violet, the shimmering sun fading beyond the horizon, that he buried his father. His mother nowhere to be seen, already on route to Aruba, Bruce Wayne…his dad at his back with a supporting hand on his shoulder.

"Tim…"

"He's my replacement Dick! I know it, you know it and Dad knows it! Even if I'm being adopted I'm not his-"

"I'm not his biological son either Tim. Are you saying I'm anything less than his son, less than a Wayne?" Dick interrupted, he sounded so serious; Tim could almost feel the frown from the other end of the phone. Dick would look on in that disapproving way he would, almost an identical expression to his dad when he down the guise of Batman.

"You know I didn't mean-" Tim moved to defend himself, a scowl on his face as he thought of how much he had disappointed one of the two persons he would always seek acknowledgement from. He hadn't met Damian Wayne yet and the brat was already-

"Of course you didn't mean it! The same way Jason didn't-" Dick cut off himself before he went too far, it was futile though. He had already crossed the line, Tim flinching at the thought of Jason, his would be older brother, another of the Batman's protégés. Jason hadn't ever believed he was enough for Batman or Bruce Wayne. It was an uphill battle between the two, the boy vying for attention, love support…believing he would never receive it. Believing that in some way, he and Dick had been more important in Bruce's eyes. It wasn't the truth though, Bruce had loved them equally, the boy had been too blind and lost in his own demons to ever realise it.

He died… alone… because he would not seek help from their father or even them. He died believing Bruce had never loved him, never seeing as the man broke down before them all, a son lost… self-blame unfairly put on his shoulders in the Bat's grief.

And wasn't he just falling in the same mind set? Jealous because this Damian Wayne was the actual blood of his dad, mad because Damian logically had more claim over the title of Robin than he ever would-

"You're still his Robin, Tim. It's not going to change…it'll never change until you're ready to let it be so. Look, I shouldn't have brought up Jas-"

Tim let out a frustrated sigh, staring up at ceiling, why did things have to be so complicated all of a sudden. Why couldn't Damian Wayne be a figment of his imagination and his biological dad alive but accepting of his role of Robin? Listen to him…he was being unfair to a kid he didn't even know, if the ten year old—at least that's how old he thought the boy was—hated him, he would have every right to.

When had he become so selfish and brooding?

"It's alright Dick, you were right anyway. I was being stupid and unfair…Damian Wayne can't be that bad right?" Tim chuckled half-heartedly, optimistic…he had to be optimistic.

"Alfred got Bruce a love match!" Dick blurted out all of a sudden, enough for Tim to almost tip off the side of his bed, shocking on his own tongue. The topic so suddenly changed, like they weren't just discussing something serious.

"What?!"

"He didn't tell you? It's hilarious! Apparently Alfred got this guy-"

"Guy! But dad's not gay!" Tim spluttered, unable to comprehend just what the hell he was actually hearing.

"That's not the best part kid! Damian approves, the same brat that I know you've been calling low key evil approves!" Dick crowed, Tim wincing as loud laughter filled his room. A curious maid peeped inside, querying if everything was alright before continuing on her way. He had been allowed to remain at his manor as the adoption process went on its way. He hadn't been allowed to live with Bruce yet, not while he was under investigation to judge his suitability, it didn't mean the man couldn't pull strings to keep him out of temporary foster care or whatever other plan social services had for him.

"And get this our new potential _dad_ hates Bruce's guts and can't stand to be in the same room as him. And surprise-surprise dear old pops just laps it all up-"

"Wait! Dad likes him. Like…like-like him!" Tim's voice was a bit high pitched now. If it was any other situation he would be embarrassed by the display but still…

"His name's Harry, and according to Alfred he gives as much as Bruce dishes. He…he actually brings out the mysterious mischievous side Barry's always talking about."

"Dad doesn't do mischievous." Tim rolled his eyes, his tone an unamused drawl. The story just went from believable to ridiculous in a second. Seriously, mischievous, Barry was just blowing air up their-

"Language Timmy."

"I didn't even say anything!" Tim protested, before falling back on the bed with a sigh.

The evening wind rustled the curtains of his room for a moment, the sky dark with one and two star lights peeking out for a show. They city wouldn't block the scene from so far away, a mere backdrop at what could be considered country air, but was really a gated estate, similar to Wayne Manor.

"Hey Tim…you ok?" Dick ventured carefully, he didn't want to push any buttons but…Tim, he believed his little brother needed to talk about _it_.

"I don't want to talk about it." Tim muttered, already prepared for the multitudes of condolences and talks about shoulders to cry on…he just didn't want that!

"Tim-" Said boy slightly perked up at the familiar deep voice he could hear down stairs—Bruce had arrived—and someone else. Two more persons along with who he knew was Bruce.

"I have to go Dick, it's time."

* * *

_The State County of Gotham_

_September 20,_

_I, Bruce Wayne, being of sound mind and body, do hereby declare Timothy Jackson Drake as my legal and lawful son and heir. This declaration is made with the full knowledge and consent of said ward, Timothy Jackson Drake._

_Signed: Bruce Wayne Signed: Timothy Drake_

_As Witnessed by:_

_Harry Potter Martha Endways_

"Well that's it, you are officially Timothy Drake-Wayne, if you should ever need anything, don't be afraid to give me a call. Again, my condolences; Jack was a great man, he contributed greatly to the development of young minds and fostered great inspiration." Martha whispered as she pulled the young man in a tight hug. Harry frowned at the display, how the woman simpered, and continued to bring up the topic that yes, the boy's father was dead and yes his mother abandoned him. It made him sick really, she might have meant well but some form of restraint could be exercised! Who wanted a constant reminder of what they lost, certainly not him and certainly not the poor kid who seemed too polite to tell the woman to back off. Before he could even move, Bruce held him by his arm, an understanding but amused stare as he leaned in close.

"Easy momma bear, she means well. You don't have to rip her a new one for touching our child." Bruce grinned, ignoring Harry's glare as he stepped up to the two.

"Martha, I believe it's time we go. It's getting late and as safe as it's been these past years, it wouldn't do to tempt fate." Bruce interrupted smoothly, watching as Tim gave an obvious sigh of relief as he stepped away from the woman.

"Don't be silly _Bruce_. With the Batman around, I doubt we'll have much trouble."

"Won't have much trouble my arse." Harry muttered under his breath, getting a curious stare from Tim and glare filled of scorn from Martha. They hadn't gotten off on the right foot in their initial meeting. Not when Harry accidentally insulted the woman by asking how many months she had left in her pregnancy and Damian the little brat making it quite clear that no, Martha wasn't pregnant. She just had a bit of a pot belly. Bruce the asshole that he was of course spent no time riling Martha up, pointing the woman's ire in poor Harry's direction.

"I don't see why you insist on having this ruf-"

"I believe that's enough Martha. Would you like for me to escort you out?" Bruce smoothly interrupted, quickly guiding the woman outside. Their conversation fading as Tim and Harry was left on their own.

"Don't be silly _Bruce._ " Both males mocked in sync, face screwed up comically. Both stared at the other in surprise before erupting in light laughter. It was Tim who made the first move, curious as he examined the 'love match'. He wasn't what he expected.

"Awm, I'm Tim…" He was hesitant, not that you could quite tell, green eyes pinning him in place for a moment…as if he was being assessed as he held out his hand.

"Tim…I'm Harry. That toe rag's potential assistant, though I tell you now, I'm this close to leaving." Harry grinned, his pointer and thumb pressed together before he shook the young boy's hand.

"My love, how you break my heart so." Bruce whispered having sneaked up on the young man, breath tickling the man's ear. Harry for his part didn't jump, though there was a noticeable shiver that didn't go unnoticed by a now intrigued Tim as he observed the sight.

His dad…Bruce Wayne was actually, acting laid back? And it was all because of …this Harry? Said man made to elbow Bruce in his stomach, but missed when Bruce dodged, pulling Harry into his chest.

"Let go of me you bloody wanker!" Harry hissed, stepping on Bruce's toe, the man having no choice but to let the infuriated man storm off, an amused smirk set in place as his eyes strayed to a perked ass.

_You should go for it._

A taunting encouragement…

"Wow dad… I should have known you'd be a masochist." Tim muttered in awe, walking in a somewhat daze to catch up with Harry, his bag hung over his shoulder.

* * *

"Now Master Damian, you must be on your best beh-"

"I know old man, I'm not _senile_. My ears are this close to bleeding because you insist on repeating yourself." Damian scowled, eyes trained on the double doors, waiting for them to open, waiting for them to reveal-

"You will do well to not bleed on the carpets Maser Damian, I just had them steamed and pressed." Alfred drawled, adjusting his suite completely unaffected by Damian's sharp glare.

The child had much to learn in the art of dry wit.

Before the boy could reply, the double doors creaked open. Damian didn't know what he felt in that moment, not really. It was like he was expecting something big, something so life changing that he would get angry, instantly start a fight even though-

"Ah, Master Timothy. Welcome home." Alfred's voice was enough to wake Damian from his racing thoughts, green eyes connecting with blue, neither blinked…neither said a word.

So this was him, this was Tim Drake…

* * *

The two boys walked in silence, Damian a step ahead aware of the older boy's heavy stare…the tension. Bruce as soon as he steeped in got a call from the office, he didn't even have the time to properly ease the tension before he secured himself away in his study. Harry, he had to make a last minute check in at the university, quickly grabbing Bruce's keys and making his way down the lonely stretch that would lead him to the city. Alfred was Alfred, one minute he was there, the next he was gone.

That left them to their lonesome.

They stopped at the doors opposite Damian's own room, just staring not saying a word.

"This is your room." Damian muttered, stepping back slightly as Tim approached the doors, hand set on the knob.

"I know, it's not like I haven't been here before." Tim spoke stiffly, cursing himself for his tone. He was supposed to take it easy, not set the kid off before they even got to know each other. Damian glared for a moment, mouth open as if he was about to say something, before he promptly shut it, turning away from the teen to enter his own room.

Tim let out a sigh of frustration. He was making a mess of things, it's not like the kid insulted him like Dick warned. He pretty much hadn't done anything other than escort him to his room…silently. He swiftly turned to face Damian, he really looked like Bruce…the resemblance honestly made something ugly stir inside of him, something he was going to push down, because as much as he loved his brother he wasn't Jason. He could make this work, technically Damian was his little brother, older brothers were welcoming…even if being in the kids presence was the last place he wanted to be right now.

"Look, I'm not here to take your place or anything alright. I'm just-"

"Please! As if a charity case like you ever could!" Damian scoffed before slamming his room door shut in the teen's face.

"That entitled brat!" Tim cursed under his breath, entering his rooms and slamming the doors with just as much force. Forget that, he and this kid weren't going to get along, not by a long shot! He would rather go play possum at arkham than ever work with that little piece of -

* * *

"Master Bruce…perhaps it is time you get some rest?" Alfred ventured, carefully picking up the empty coffee cup, the clock behind them ticking slowly. It was 2:30 am.

"It was Roselle, that last call. A query about my date for the-"

"Charity ball. Yes, how odd…at this hour? She seems desperate I gather." Alfred supplied easily.

Bruce hummed without saying much, his hand tracing the small picture of Harry in his profile. The man was smiling, he looked so innocent…far removed from the man with a short fuse and piercing glares.

"You wouldn't have chosen him if you hadn't thought it would work wouldn't you." It wasn't a question, Bruce seemed far off in that moment contemplating, analysing pros and cons.

"Master Bruce?"

"I want to know everything there is on his divorce." Bruce spoke seriously, the profile falling from his as he stood, hands crossed behind his back as he stared out at the dew covered gardens.

"And MACUSA, Master Bruce?"

"MACUSA can wait. I believe…I'm 'going for it'." Bruce smirked as he turned to face Alfred, though there was something softer in his eyes. A strange acceptance really.

Alfred paused for a moment before simply inclining his head, empty cup in hand as he turned to leave.

"Very well, Master Bruce. Let us hope first he survives the inevitable tension between your young children then. I dare say, it may well be enough to scare the poor man away or enough that he commits murder, starting with you." Alfred spoke amused, unable to hide the joy that shun trough at the turn of events. Now if only Harry would get on board.

"It's bunny we're talking about Alfred, I'm sure murdering me will always be the very first thing on his short list." Brue snorted, a strange excitement boiling in his blood, flashes of beautiful green eyes and scowling red lips.

Yes…he was definitely going for it.

* * *

_Dear Harry,_

_It seems your Potter luck strikes again. I won't say it but, I told you so._

_Harry…_

_Maybe this isn't so bad… the attraction I mean._

_Harry…I know you._

_When things start getting too real…_

_You have these walls, and when you mount them…you mount them high._

_Just divorced, it doesn't matter…it's not like you still love Blaise Zabini right?_

_Right?_

_I mean you asked for the divorce…you left him._

_Those feelings…_

_They're gone right?_

**_Neville Longbottom_ **

**_Lord of the most Ancient and Noble house of Longbottom. (You're right, it really does sound snobbish)_ **


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Young Justice**

* * *

Roselle sighed to herself, the halls of the upper level of Wayne Tower busier than usual, lowered voices that in such a crowd sounded much too loud. Men and women in suites alike mingling, plastic cups in hand and heavy paper filled dockets. Now and again someone would be too careless, important track sheets falling to the floor only to be quickly scooped up by a passer-by, proclamations of no problem on the tip of their tongues as the paper was handed over. Like a rush hour, that wasn't really a rush hour, the first annual major meeting having been kept and now over with, everyone from every level of the Wayne Enterprises were satisfied with the results. Pay raises, vacation time increase in production and productivity, promotions and outstanding adjustment to health care policies and programs for Wayne Enterprises employees.

"Roselle cheer up! A pay raise and you're here moping around like the scrooge of Christmas!" Mathew laughed lightly. He was a junior editor in the marketing department, and if rumour was right Bruce Wayne was on his way to promoting the man a level or two for his exemplary work in the company's latest magazine. It was no secret that Mathew was 'sweet on Roselle', not that the beautiful woman noticed, or maybe she did and chose to ignore it. Everyone knew, despite her best efforts to keep it under wraps, that she had a tad of an infatuation with Bruce Wayne.

Roselle gave him a strained smile, before she stacked up her latest report. Mr. Wayne was in an oddly good mood…well maybe not so odd, he had been that way for weeks, he had even given them the rest of the day off, confident that the lost hours would not affect production or production cost. You couldn't quite tell his mood at first glance, because of course he was as stoned face as he always was, but if you looked closer-

"Roselle…maybe you should forget it. He's not going to-" Mathew started hesitantly, watching as the woman gazed at their employer, his office doors were wide open, workers in and out happily as they discussed the highlights of the meeting; the man was casually leaned back against his leather chair, phone held to his ear as he dutifully wrote down whatever important information he was receiving.

"Mathew, thank-you for the concern but I don't need it." Roselle muttered before quickly standing, documents in hand as she straightened her skirt.

"Roselle-"

"He hasn't been with anyone for two months! Not even at important events, the charity ball is coming up and-" Roselle glared, a tad hurt from the look Mathew gave her. She wasn't stupid, far from it…no one got the position she held without the sufficient intelligence and charisma. So what if she was interested in Bruce Wayne! It wasn't so far out of this world that just maybe Bruce Wayne would return her feelings!

"Exactly! You don't find that a bit odd. Playboy billionaire no longer playboying, practically gone ghost in the lime light and every morning he comes to work with this satisfied look about him-"

"I'll never go out with you! I know that's what you want but it'll never happen! So just leave me alone!" Roselle shouted, suddenly angry with the man. She froze at the sudden silence, the low hum of conversation muted as their co-workers looked over curiously, some even gave pitiful glances Mathew's way, as if he was some victim.

Mathew said nothing at first, Bruce Wayne's deep baritone—low—carrying through the office and hall, before he sighed in frustration a hand combing through his short brown hair.

"Sue me for being concerned, just—you know what, have a good day Roselle, it was nice catching up." Mathew muttered, before walking away from the woman, good mood for the day shot; the curious gaze of his co-workers at his back.

Roselle frowned for a moment, a heavy feeling of guilt weighing on her chest. Mathew hadn't deserved that, but—

Her eyes strayed to Bruce Wayne once more, brown eyes catching her own for a moment, before her vision was blocked by the closing doors, Mrs. Thomas giving her a look of scorn before directing everyone out of the hall, and back to whatever they planned for the day.

Biting her lip, she hesitantly made to enter the man's office, before thinking better of it, picking up her bag and documents she would review at home. She felt hopeless…Bruce hadn't even looked at her when it came time to discuss his options for dates at the ball. She was normally his option…when he hadn't bothered to secure a date. She would feel elated, though he would barely pay her much mine, just a formality he would say, before he got lost in business talk she could never quite keep up with.

It was stupid and maybe a bit desperate but…there was this store downtown, maybe she could-

* * *

"Damn it! It's a dead end!" Red Robin cursed, sweat rolling down the side of his neck, seeping into the crease of his high collar. It burned, it felt too hot and the air was much too heavy. At least heavy in this underground tunnel how many feet underwater he couldn't quite remember, with five Gotham civilians, high ranked civilians at his back.

Joker had stricken again, trying to get a rise out of the Bat that for the most part had gone ghost, the GCPD were handling regular crime pretty well after all. Joker had kidnapped city officials, stashed them in three different locations, with the threat of explosives hanging over their heads. Batman had taken on the abandoned army camp on the outskirts of Gotham, a dangerous location mapped with landmines and whatever was left over after the army's departure. As per usual his chosen partner in crime was Flash, the speedster had taken on the Otisburg district, five more officials bound under threat of explosives.

That left them…yes _them_ , Bruce had insisted that both Robins take on the tunnels. They were expected to work together, save these civilians, make _decisions_ together. He didn't have to be a scholar to see that this was a bad idea, even Harry from his spot in the cave, practising useful medical skills with Alfred had looked on dubiously at the plan. His dad should listen to Harry more often, Harry normally knew what the hell he was talking about when it came on to kids.

"It's like I said, this a dead end charity case!" Damian hissed, in his guise as Robin as the civilians cowered behind them. Terrified that they had escaped only to possible die underwater, the explosives yet to be found or even deactivated.

"Just shut up and let me think for a moment!" Red Robin hissed, looking around the narrow tunnel, no other escape route, heat rising air even heavier than a few seconds ago.

Why was the air getting heavier?

Why did it feel like he couldn't breathe?!

"The Oxygen levels are dropping!" Damian supplied helpfully, note the sarcasm; he didn't need the civilians more spoked than they already were. When spooked they got demanding, started rebelling, refusing to listen to orders.

"Are you ready to listen to me now?!" Damian shouted, alarms blaring in their ears, the tunnels shifting, the furious sound of water rushing into a lower level alarming.

"What are you two waiting for?! Save us damn it! Isn't that what you're here for?!" One of the men of the group shouted, panicked as the steel enforce tunnel seemingly began to dent.

"Red!" Damian shouted, itching to move, to just get them the hell out of here with or without Red Robin's approval.

"Just wait a second I go-" Before he could even finish it sentence a heavy screw went flying, water rushing in swift and fierce.

"We've done it your way, now we do it mine!" Damian growled out, swiftly moving pass the civilians, said civilians wasting no time scampering after the ten year old. Red Robin cursed, his fist colliding with hot steel, his anger so fierce that he didn't even feel the impact before he was running after the younger Robin.

* * *

"That took longer than it was supposed to-"

"If the idiot would have just listened to me none of this-" Damian began furiously, both Robin's soaked to the bone.

"You're idea from the beginning would have seen two out of the five civilians dead before we deactivated the bomb, much less reach the surface!" Tim raged, he had the situation under control! He didn't need some entitled brat-

"If they can't keep up then they didn't deserve to live to begin with!"

"You don't deserve to wear-" Tim grabbed Damian by his collar, said boy glaring at him. Dearing him to lay just one hand on him, give him the excuse he was looking for to act how he really felt.

"That's enough the both of you!" Batman growled, gaze narrowed as he watched the two locked in a heated battle. So this was what they had been reduced to petty squabbles and-

"But he-!" Both Robins protested, unwilling to back down, to let the other have the upper hand.

"I said that is enough! You've both proven to me that you're far from ready!" Bruce glared, turning away from the two. He had thought—and perhaps that's where he had gone wrong. Assumptions.

He would be a fool not to realize the animosity between the two, how they allowed their dislike, because he wouldn't go as far as to say hatred, cloud their judgement. He could just see green eyes, not so much worried but still questioning if he was sure about this, sure about letting the two Robin's work as a team so soon. He had brushed it off, so confident in his training methods, so confident that-

"You'll both return home, I'll finish up here." Batman spoke with finality, sparing none of the two a second glance in that moment. Before he left, he slowly turned to face both Robin's, both sons…they were obviously angry, disappointed and maybe just a little bit shamed…yet they were still proud, too proud for what took place tonight. Arrogant with the thought that both were right, no one was in the wrong…his eyes strayed to Tim, his Red Robin. Perhaps he was indeed too hasty to ask this of them and maybe wrong for what he was about to do-

"And when you are home, leave the suit in its rightful spot…both of you." With that he left in the Bat car, watching in the side mirrors as both Robin cursed, glared heatedly at the other before taking off on top of the roofs in separate directions, the GCPD arriving on spot to usher the civilians home.

* * *

"Austin, we cannot-" Harry's eyebrow twitched in frustration,

"Look Potter! I could care less about what you can or cannot do! This is my damn grade and if I say we go to Gotham City Orphanage to conduct-"

"Gotham City orphanage is well funded you little shite!" Bloody hell, he was going to lose his mind being paired up with the bloody moron for the damn project that was due in two weeks. Two weeks, and he was far behind on his track list, if this bloody wanker made him fail he would-

"Please! Conducting research in the slums isn't so much of a bright idea! Who cares what those little shits experience, if they couldn't find themselves in-"

"The whole point of this research is to investigate how socio-economic factors, more specifically the poverty stricken elements, affect the psyci of young-

"Oh boo-hoo Potter, cry me a damn river! I'll be investigating Gotham City Orphanage, you can just sit back and look pretty for your sugar-"

"Piss off Peters! And while you're at it do us a favour and go jump off a bloody cliff, the world could so much better without the disease of your crippling incompetence infecting the masses!" Harry hissed before disconnecting the call, grabbing his pillow to scream out his damn frustration. He was going to kill somebody! He was bloody going to kill somebody!

He almost jumped when he heard a door slam with such force that the even his own shook, it didn't end there though. Angry footsteps echoed down the hall, the only sound that could be heard, before his room doors were flung open and Damian marched inside.

"It wasn't even my fault! If the stupid idiot would have just listened to me none of this would be happening to begin with!" Damian hissed, slamming the doors shut as he furiously kicked of his shoes, and tore of his jacket.

"Da-"

"And you know what he does?! He punishes me like I'm some infuriating brat when it's his _precious_ Tim that started it!" Damian steamrolled, stomping off to Harry's bathroom, a towel in hand.

Harry frowned, he didn't quite understand what was happening, but he could figure that their little mission hadn't gone as planned and Bruce must have punished Damian for some reason or the other. For some reason, the thought didn't sit well with him…but then again he didn't have the full story.

"Punished you?" Harry ventured, forgetting about his own issues for the moment as he listened to the shower on full blast. He remembered offhandedly that for some reason the brats sleep clothes… at least some of them were in his bathroom closet.

Damian didn't answer, obviously in a mood and not about to oblige him at the moment. Ten year olds could be quite obstinate when they wanted to, especially ones like Damian so sure of themselves and the world.

The brat was out before he even realized, dressed in a simple black shirt and black sleep pants. He didn't say a word as he scrambled unto the bed, pushing Harry's papers out of the way as he always did, before burrowing under the sheets, 'invisible to the world'.

"Damian." Harry spoke firmly, making to pull the sheets away from the boy's head so he could get a straight answer. He hesitated from the soft mumble, green eyes softening for a second, before Harry pushed down the sheets and carded his hand through silky black hair.

"I didn't even do anything. If he doesn't want to be here then he could just leave! It's not like I want him here!" Damian clenched his fist tight, eyes closed as some of his anger faded, Harry a soothing balm to his turbulent emotions. Not that he would ever admit that. Without a word he spun around, head resting against Harry's stomach as he fitted his arms around his waist.

No words were exchanged, just calming silence, and for a moment Harry could only wonder when things had gotten like this. When did he get so close to a child that hated him at first glance, so close that said child sought comfort from him would out a question asked. Harry sighed, flashes of brown eyes holding him in place, that deep laugh and infuriating smirk…he felt warm. He didn't want to feel warm…like somehow, slowly but surely he was becoming an important part of a family that was not his own.

"He said…he punished the both of us, he told us to put up our suits. He wants to have a talk with us when he gets back…I'm not…I don't care that he's disappointed! I don't!" Damian sounded like he was trying to convince himself, hands tight in the soft cotton of Harry's shirt.

For just that moment the ten year old shun through.

Harry said nothing, kissing the boy's forehead as those hands—how hadn't he ever realized how small they were—tightened for a moment, before slowly relaxing.

"If you tell anyone about this commoner, they won't ever find your body!" Damian glared up at the amused man, before burrowing further into his warmth.

"My mouth's sealed." Harry grinned, fixing the sheets around the boy, staring into the ceiling as he felt Damian relax, quickly being pulled into sleep.

He didn't even look up as his room door creaked open, in a way he had sensed that someone was there, hesitating before finally making the decision to enter.

"Ha—Harry, could you—I—could you drive me somewhere?" It was Tim, the boy looked troubled, eyes straying to the sleeping Damian with almost guilt, before he looked up, straight into green eyes.

When it seemed like Harry wouldn't answer, Tim began to fidget, looking down at his feet before he tried to make the request again.

"I just…Please?"

Harry frowned for a moment, before he finally sighed, running his hand through Damian's short hair for a moment before gently shuffling the boy to 'his' side of the bed.

"Just give me a second." Harry gave a small smile, watching as Tim nodded hesitantly before leaving, another glance sent towards the sleeping boy.

* * *

The drive was silent as Harry adjusted the AC, it was too cold in the car, the wipers moving back and forth as a light drizzle of rain descended upon them. In the distance, lightning painted an eerie picture, so intertwined with looming grey clouds and light thunder that rumbled in the distance.

Harry slowly stopped the car at an intersection, the indicator set for a left turn as he carefully looked both ways before making the turn.

"Aren't you even going to ask me?" Tim muttered, head rested on his fist as he stared outside the window, vision partially obscured from the water droplets.

"I don't know. Do you want me to ask?" Harry answered with a question, the car lighting up from the city lights as they entered a busy street. It almost seemed like a black Friday, the streets filled with shoppers, children, teens…as if some big event was occurring, their laughter contagious; their joy obvious. It was strange for Gotham City, known to be forever dark and filled with gloom. No one would ever believe that it could be like this, normal…seemingly untainted with the symbol of her protector proud in the sky…a beacon of hope and for better days to come.

Tim glanced at the man for a moment, still dressed in his sleep wear, covered by Bruce's cloak he had swiped from the coat rack on his way out. Bruce had arrived a little earlier than expected, but instead of calling them for the talk he had promised, he had quickly gone to his study, Alfred on his heel. He had thought the man hadn't known they had left, that was until he had sent a text to Harry's phone asking if he was comfortable in his cloak. Harry had glared at the phone as if he could kill Bruce right there and then.

Harry was…different. That's the word he would use for him because how else could he describe a man so similar to Bruce's brat, yet someone entirely himself. He sighed, flashes of Damian cuddled up in the man's arm, a child taking comfort from a mother, even if he acted tough and beyond such acts. The car came to a slow stop at an abandoned lot, old posters fluttering about, some soaked from the rain that wasn't much heavy yet…but instead just there.

'The Flying Grayson's', the posters proclaimed. The main attraction that had ended in tragedy, a family ripped apart by death and a boy left on his own, until Bruce Wayne stretched out a sympathetic hand. They sat in silence, the wipers moving back and forth, a continuous rhythm that should have been soothing as the gentle pitter-patter of rain sounded from the car's roof.

"I come here sometime…when I want to clear my head. It's not really a place of good memories but…" Tim began softly, finger tapping at the window pane before his hand fell listlessly to his lap.

Harry didn't say a word, he could see it needed to let something off his chest, talk it out…it was odd that he would chose him and not his adoptive father or even Alfred…but then was it truly? They weren't close, not that much…at least not yet. Probably to Tim, he would be impartial, just allow him to speak without truly judging.

"My Father…biological, he brought me here for the first time; he and my mum, so I could see the Flying Graysons. They travelled a lot, and I was often left behind…it was like I didn't really have parents, raised by my nanny back then Mrs. Thelma." Tim smiled softly, eyes trained on that one spot in the centre of the park, as if he could picture the circus in its glory, flashing lights and strange, beautiful costumes.

"I met Dick when they brought me to the circus, he even dedicated his performance to me just before he went on stage…but then…well everyone knew how that day went."

"Tim, why are you telling me this?" Harry asked quietly, hands still resting on the steering wheel as he looked out at the empty park. He didn't want to sound cold, or as if he didn't care because he did but…

"I messed up. Damian—I—it wasn't his fault what happened tonight. I was just so angry that he seemed so much better than me, my replacement. Dad is all I have…Dad and Dick and Alfred too but—he's all I have, and I can't really have that when he has Damian." Tim glared down at his hands, twisting them in his lap as he pictured Bruce's disappointed expression, how cold he had seemed in the end. He had told them…told him to put the suit back in its place, as if they weren't... _he_ wasn't worthy.

"Your stupid father dragged me to a supermarket just before your adoption was finalized, and I accidentally called that daft cow Martha pregnant. He had me get all your favourite things, when I was late for class mind you…insisted that I finished the list and-" Harry paused, before looking over at Tim. He looked so young, innocent, straining under the guilt of his jealousy and need to defend his actions. Knowing that he was wrong but not ready to admit it, sure of his place with his father and in the same breath equally unsure.

Like Damian.

"He got you donuts you know. Damian I mean, he got you donuts, pouting all the way with his small arms stretched out, demanding that Bruce and I stop arguing and take the boxes from him." Harry smiled amused at the memory, he carefully ignored the light feeling in his chest at the thought that they had seemed like a family then.

Tim's eyes widened at the words, he couldn't imagine the same brat that called him a charity case doing something like that.

_Trust me; he's not that bad, he'll probably insult you the first time he meets you, but look on the bright side Damian insults everyone._

He looked down at his hands, a strange feeling of shame in his stomach yet an unwillingness to admit-

"You're thirteen, no matter what Bruce thinks, you're all still kids. You'll be irrational, act petty…I'll admit even I'm still guilty of that and I'm twenty-eight years old." Harry grinned, a hand placed over Tim's own folded. Tim cracked a small smile, barely there as he squeezed Harry's hand.

"I hate to admit it but, Bruce is a good father. He sees you all as equal blood or otherwise…I believe you already know that even. Damian, he doesn't really show it, he'll probably kill me for saying it but he doesn't dislike you as much as he'd want you to think."

"But he dislikes me." Tim grinned just a bit, something heavy lifting from his chest as Green eyes lit up and Harry laughed.

"Yes, he dislikes you…for now at any rate. Who knows, one day you might just find the brat curled up in your bed!"

Tim didn't even bother to hold it in, he let the laughter out, and with his laughter the treacherous tears he had held back for so long ran down his cheek. Before he knew it he was pulled across into Harry's arm. He was so warm, smelt like chocolate, and lingering trace of Bruce's regular cologne. It was enough that the tears came harder, even if not a sound would escape his lips, his hands tightening in soft cotton, so much like Damian only moments before.

"Damian hate's apologies, so don't try that with him, he'll just turn his nose up at you like the little brat he is. A truce maybe…" Harry whispered, his hand a soothing motion through his short hair.

Tim said nothing, he simply held unto Harry, and with the mingled scent of his father and chocolate he could only wonder…was this what a mother felt like?

* * *

"It was your plan from the start! You knew they would seek me out!" Harry accused as Bruce greeted him at the door, casually leaned against the door frame, sleeves folded up to his elbows.

"But Bunny, you handle our children so much better." Bruce stepping much too close to Harry as he gentle untied the knot Harry had made of the belt, their bodies just a hair's breadth away from the other. Harry could feel the heat seeping into his own body; the man was like a furnace at times, and when his hand brushed against his cooler skin… hair standing on end, he could not help but shiver. Bruce obviously saw it, his smirk wider as he stepped forward, forcing Harry to step back, almost crowded against the double doors of the foyer.

"They aren't my children." Harry whispered, swallowing lightly as Bruce moved closer, they were almost pressed together, the sound of rainfall heavier than it was before he had arrived, and Tim had gone to his room.

"They aren't?" Bruce's voice was deep, even as a whisper, his hand curling around a small waist. Strong, firm…assertive...powerful.

"No, Mr. Wayne. And if you don't mind, I need to go to bed." Harry glared, pushing the man away from him, ignoring the clench of hard muscles under his palm as he made to walk off.

"Harry." At the call Harry clenched his fist and slowly turned around, Bruce watching him with eyes…he should recognise…an expression he couldn't quite place in that moment.

With a smirk, Bruce turned away from him, making his way to the reading room on that floor, his whispered words teasing at Harry's senses a strange skip of a heartbeat.

"Good-night…lovely Bunny."

* * *

Roselle sighed tiredly, rolling over unto the cold side of her bed, eyes trained on her cell phone…wondering if she should call again.

No…maybe she shouldn't. Bruce had already spoken to her, told her she would not be his date for the ball…warned her that she could lose her job if she continued to harass him—because yes—she was harassing him.

Her eyes strayed to the simple ticket with beautiful printed script…an invitation to the charity ball. They were from Matthew, Bruce Wayne had personally given them to him…he had hoped to attend with her. He no longer wished to…but had still given her the ticket, told her to enjoy herself, pained smile and all.

Her mind strayed to that shop she had stopped at, her purchase was ridiculous…but it was sure to get Bruce's attention right? The ball was her last chance…and if that didn't work, she would stop. She would hand in her resignation and never bother Bruce Wayne again.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Young Justice**

* * *

_"_ _Let's get married." Harry paused for just a moment, a strange leap of his heart as he tried to clear his head; understand if he had heard right…if he had misunderstood something. Slowly tightening the bandage around Blaise's wrist, he did not utter a word from his lips, the silence broken ever so gently by the rustling wind and the creak of the weeping willow in a distance._

_Blaise smirked half-halfheartedly, he was used to this silence from Harry…at least after months in each other's presence. He wasn't as impulsive as he once was in their younger years. Never the same Gryffindor; war…this war had changed much in the man…yet maybe not so much, the soft traces of skin against his own, gentle as Harry wrapped his sprained wrist haphazardly. A soothing balm, he was prideful…but even he could admit that Potter…he wasn't what their peers made him out to be._

_"_ _Did you hit your head on your way out of Hogsmeade? No wait, it's a residual effect from Bellatrix's magic." Harry snorted slightly, his tone equal parts incredulous, amused and teasing as he tied of the wrap around the man's hand. It wasn't perfect, far from it…but it would have to do. It was in the same way hundreds of students secured behind shaky, ancient wards and crumbling towers would have to do with what little medical care they could get. Muggle more so than magical arts._

_"_ _Harry." At the serious tone, he couldn't help but look up. Dark eyes peered into his own, something unreadable there, yet so much fear, wounded pride, tiredness…a reluctant acceptance. A man that did not play his cards on hopes on wishes, but instead in the reality they lived. He wouldn't admit that he had given up. At least in a sense, not even as his newly calloused hands held on to his the younger wizard…not when they trembled ever so slightly, before his gaze flickered out in the distance, the weeping willow caught in a strange hypnotic dance._

_"_ _Blaise, what are you…" Harry trailed off, he didn't even know what he was going to ask, not really. For a moment flashes of Hermione, her belly slowly swelling, her countenance forever as one who had lost much,_ _absent minded_ _as she caressed the evidence of her love for a man now dead. She lost so much before it ever began, and just like this moment he couldn't say a word. He sighed before taking a seat beside Blaise, their usual spot on the highest tower overlooking the grounds that lead to weeping willow, biting cold winds marking his cheeks rosy red and Blaise's own deep mocha, dulled instead of rich._

_"_ _It's not so much farfetched. I can tolerate you, you can tolerate me and by the end of this war we'll both be dead…what would it matter." Blaise muttered, gazing below at the fine dots below that were children lumbering about outside, only for a moment though…it wasn't so safe even on Hogwarts' grounds, the Dark Lord could find you anywhere._

_"_ _Nice vote of confidence there, Zabini." Harry drawled, feet dangling listlessly. He couldn't help the snort when the pureblood wizard merely smirked at him, his usual biting tone as stingy as ever, saving no compassion or care if words were razor sharp._

_"_ _It's like I said Potter, you're nothing special, so don't get ahead of yourself half-blood."_

_"_ _Yet you pureblood, holier than thou has asked my hand in marriage without a proper wizarding courtship! Shame on you Zabini, oh how your ancestors must roll in their graves." Harry grinned, used to the insults, realizing them for what they were…at least when it came to him. He wouldn't fool himself to believe that Blaise Zabini was inherently a good person, but neither was he inherently bad…a bit like Draco Malfoy yet so much more level-headed and mature._

_"_ _Yes shame on me. Yet even more shame on me, if I allow our precious tyrant Dark Lord the chance to steal yet one more thing from us…_ from _me. Even when I draw my last breath…this, this he will not take away." Blaise spoke with so much conviction, so much passion, his dark eyes holding green in place, hands clasped around pale , not a tremble for how strong his spirit was in that moment._

_"_ _Marriage without love? If only to rebel against Voldemort…but is it truly rebellion when neither of us do this for happiness?" Harry muttered, the sound of a loud caw in the sky garnering his attention for a moment. His breath icing over as the feel of approaching dementors set in. They were frequent visitors, hovering over wavering shields, a means to break down what little will and hope those who still fought had. It had been so long that his mother's screams echoed ever so slightly in his mind, pounding at his shields and threatening to let Voldemort in._

_"_ _Who says it is not for happiness?" Blaise spoke softly, gaze trained on their interwoven hands, when they had gotten like that neither could quite tell…and truthfully neither cared. Harry couldn't help it in that moment, it was stupid the heavy feeling in his heart, not sadness or guilt…just heavy. Under the gaze of dark eyes, vulnerable for just a split moment, a truth that he couldn't decipher…he felt giddy. Wanted to laugh at the fraction of normalcy he could feel, as if some war was not at their doorsteps. Marriage…what a whim, yet he was foolish enough to take the leap…damn the consequences._

_Damn the second thoughts and rationality, the voice in the back of his head could just shut up for this moment. He wanted this, he was going to do this!_

_"_ _Alright. I'll marry you Blaise Zabini, you pureblood prat." Harry whispered, a soft hand against a chiselled jaw, marred only by the slight stubble that was setting in. Harry's eyes widened at the genuine smile that crossed the man's face, his hands covering his own as he leaned so close that their foreheads pressed together._

_"_ _Alright then, you half wit half-blood." Blaise whispered, closing his eyes as he allowed Harry's natural soothing balm to calm his racing heart and frazzled nerves. Who would ever have thought that this once reckless Gryffindor with tunnel vision could ever bring such comfort to a pureblood that believed in everything that he was against?_

_Perhaps it was good that they would die, bonded for eternity, they would never have to face how truly different they were…they would never have to venture the abyss of haunting love._

* * *

_They were running, hand in hand, feet slipping, peels of laughter from their lips as the rain soaked them to the bone. They climbed the hills together, tumbling down in fit of childishness, clothes grass stained. It was surprising, the both of them; one pureblood…a purist and one half blood that saw through the eyes of true revolution like his parents before him and his grandparents before them. Overhead, thunder rumbled, yet ominous it was not, grey clouds carrying along showers as they raced to where the sun should have met the sea...raced to where there should have been sun, but instead laid looming darkness._

_The two wizards skid to a stop under the weeping willow, barely missing swiping limbs and groans of outrage, pale hands quickly slapping the winding aged bark, the willow frozen in place._

_"_ _Mad! Bloody mad that's what you are!" Blaise shouted through his incredulous state, he couldn't believe he had done that. Acting so much like an uncultured muggle lover, hand in hand with his soon to be husband as the man could not contain his joy. This…was this what freedom felt like? For a moment free of his obligations of blood, the looming presence of his lady mother over his shoulders and claws so deep in his own spine that to a good eye he buckled. Harry, his green eyes were alight with excitement, joy…his curly hair soaked and plastered angst his face, the red clip that held his bangs to the side sliding ever so slightly._

_They were far from presentable; grass and dirt stained, there pants rolled up to their knees, hair in disarray and sweat mingling with cold unforgiving rain._

_"_ _Right now, right here! It's the old ways isn't it? A place of true ancient magic, surrounded by nature and mother magic's blessing!" Harry shouted over the roaring winds, they could hardly see each other, the rain heavier than ever, pin pricks that needled into their skin._

_"_ _What?!" Blaise shouted, confused for a moment as he held on tightly to both of Harry's hands, the shorter man hopping in place like a house elf praised suddenly for a job well done._

_"_ _The old ways you Blibbering Humidinger! It's all you ever speak of! I know this is more archaic, but isn't that good…what better way to marry than the true old ways!" Harry spoke in excitement, giddy when realization finally set in for the wizard, said wizard artfully ignoring the obvious fictional creature used as a curse from Harry's lips. Luna got around most days, the person who instilled a little bit of joy in such trying times._

_With a nod—eager—not that he would make it show, Blaise positioned the two so they properly faced each other, right hands crossed over left as they kneeled before the weeping willow, shielded only marginally by its frozen limbs._

_"_ _With mother magic thou be our witness, I place my heart and spirit within thine sight, you are mine as I am yours. Till the sun sets and the moon rises and the wolves howl for our spirits as they depart, one being. Thou art mine as I am yours." Blaise recited, the rise of magic heavy in the air,_ _lightning_ _flashing ominously above them._

_"_ _And with this pledge, this heart is true, thy will is free. Thou art mine as I am yours. As the moon sets and the sun rises we reign as one life, one magic till truly we are no more. This is our truth, be there no divide." Harry continued, grinning as Blaise sagged in relief, as if he expected to make a mess of their marriage before mother magic because of his uncultured being. In one final move both leaned forward, their vows sealed with a kiss before both whispered against warm lips._

_"_ _So mote it be."_

_Harry jumped as thunder ripped through the sky so suddenly, lightening striking a vulnerable limb, the charred branch falling with shattering thud within sopping mud._

_Both wizards stared at the limb, still smoking; their hands unknown to them held painfully tight, a whisper upon the wind…filled with sadness, regret and so much anger that went unheard by them both._

Harry woke with a start, heart racing as he gasped for air, sheets tangled around his feet.

"Another nightmare." At the deep voice Harry looked up quickly, green eyes trained at his doorway where Bruce stood leaned against the door jam, hands folded over his chest. The pale amber light from the hall seeped into the bedroom, strangely warm as crickets sang happily outside…the side of his bed empty even though it was merely 12:30 AM.

"Patrol, both Damian and Tim should be back in an hour or so." Bruce continued, closing the door behind him as he stepped into the room.

"Separate patrols you mean." Harry tried to sound amused, his attempt was halfhearted at best, obviously still troubled as he gripped the soft cotton sheets, he had quickly gotten tired of the silk. Something that greatly amused Alfred as he assisted the man with changing his sheets a few nights before, much to Damian's ire and Tim's curious peep inside.

"It helps if you talk about it…at least that's what Dick insist, I've never put much salt to that." Bruce grinned lightly as he sat on the bed, for once all teasing gone as he focussed on the clearly distracted man. He frowned as he watched that familiar gesture, Harry rubbing the bare skin of his ring finger. He hadn't gotten much on his previous marriage or subsequent divorce. Through Alfred's contacts he knew that both wizards had been separated for a year before their divorce two months ago. He couldn't quite tell if perhaps feelings were still there…or even if it was truly Harry's idea to divorce. Not with the way he acted sometimes, always blocking him out…shying away from his obvious advances, even when it obvious that attraction was in fact there.

"Harry?" He began hesitantly, placing a warm hand over cooler ones, Harry's hands were always cool as if he couldn't keep much warmth in his body. He could be judgmental and say it was because of how thin he was, but Harry wasn't that thin and thin didn't mean you couldn't keep warm.

"Mr. Wa—Bruce, I know what you're trying to do. I appreciate it, I really do but-" Harry began, already looking for a way to escape this. He wasn't one to speak his bleeding heart out. He was a private person, and as much as he had come to know Bruce Wayne, it didn't mean he would so suddenly…

"It's obvious isn't it? That I am… I am attracted to you. I tease you and make your life hell, it doesn't change the fact that some way, somehow I am." Bruce interrupted, his deep voice low as he stared out at the gently swaying pine trees, a frown on his face as his grip tightened around the twitching hand under his own. He could almost hear Harry's nervous swallow, how he bit his reddened lips unconsciously, perhaps uncomfortable with the change of topic, before he too looked way with a frown.

"I know you see it, it's why you avoid me sometimes, or refuse to look me in the eyes because just maybe, you feel the same. I can spout poetics about love or what people call _love_ , but I'm no romantic. It's reality that I live for… Harry I watch you destroy yourself silently…your divorce-"

"Don't act like you know me, Bruce Wayne! Whatever you might think, you don't have a right to my secrets, to my—?!"Harry began almost angrily, emerald eyes sharp blades as he moved to pull his hand from the tight grip. His anger didn't have the chance to rise as Bruce so suddenly pinned him in place with hard eyes, unwavering and unwilling to let him look way. Seizing him in that moment, and baring all his dark truth for the ever dominant man that lay behind his partial mask of simple ease.

"Your divorce is an issue because you seem to make it one. Even saying that, I won't say it's easy for what do I know of divorce? You bury your feelings and they haunt you, even as you pretend everything is alright. But I've come to see that even if you were bleeding out, dying before my very eyes, you would tell me you are alright and refuse help even freely given!"

Harry glared for a moment, eyes wavering in light of the truth. He hated this, when his faults were laid bare. He didn't need anyone, he had never needed anyone! He fought a war almost on his own, burdens that he crumbled under he bore on his own with his head held high. He didn't need…but, what was it that he had to prove…why continue to do this to himself. An almost narcissist point of view as if the world revolved around him, that only he could ever do something or bare his burdens.

Harry pulled his hand away slowly, folding them in his lap, before he looked outside the window, silent under Bruce's heavy gaze. Attracted to him huh? He had realized, and in the same breath he knew his own attraction and wished it false. He didn't want to travel that road ever again, even if now he itched to take the leap of fate…dreams weren't for him and happy ever afters were just fantasy. Mother magic, the moment she had voiced her displeasure, that branch struck with lightning as he and Blaise recited their vows told him as much.

What fools they were.

"Our marriage was a fool's game, but even then…I loved him, and perhaps he loved me. It wasn't enough I wager…we were too different, our ideals so far apart that I tried desperately not to step on his toes, and he the same; though his attempts for the most part were in vain." Harry began softly, he didn't know why he would spill such an integral secret to an almost stranger…not so much stranger. Still, it left him anxious and raw, yet he needed this for a moment off his chest, needed it to be someone else's problem than his own.

"We were…marginally happy, not quite in love but there was love. Maybe an attachment from the war, an unwillingness to let go of what signified our freedom…it all came to head when pureblood ways clashed with my own revolutionary thoughts and belief."

Harry finally turned to Bruce, something dark and wholly sad in green eyes, yet tears would never dare fall. Bruce recognised that same gaze, one that he too wore when he finally let go of Talia, recognizing that their attempts were in vain. The same gaze if only much darker and fierce when he accepted well and truly that his son, the son he had never truly connected with emotionally, died without knowing how much he had loved him.

"A pureblood lord must have an heir to secure his inheritance. We were married, we were of the same sex…but magic always has a way, no… _wizards_ always have a way." Harry glared down at his hands, hesitating for a moment before looking out the window once more, silence taking over as the clock tic-toced in the background, and crickets were soothed for only but a moment.

"There is a potion that makes it possible for me to carry my own offspring, but it is not as simple as taking a potion. The potion won't make me pregnant, it prepares my body…fools it so that it may-"

"Purebloods are not allowed surrogates you see, not unless it is a second marriage. The child would never be recognised as a legitimate heir…so for the case of a same sex couple you take a potion and all is well. Nine months and _abracadabra_ a baby" Harry's voice was full of scorn, disgust yet so much sadness.

"The potion allows your body to prepare necessary hormones, chemicals, mental capacity; change your body to accept a womb…a womb most times ripped from a defenceless woman in the mental wards of St. Mungo's. Implanted, you become a living incubator, you will be linked to this defenceless woman as you siphon her magic to sustain the womb, said woman left as nothing but a squib in the end if not dead! Then the child grows, and is cut out of your body, the very womb you stole degrades and is no more…attacked as if a bunch of cancerous cells"

"How-" Bruce begun, his tone growling and something dangerous that lingered deep within his core. The lengths of morality wizards would dare cross if only to bare an innocent child, innocent child stained with terrible deeds.

"I would never do such a thing! The very thing my dear husband wished of me, to produce an heir and secure his inheritance! I may have wanted a child but I would never-" Harry was trembling; not in sadness, no… but suppressed anger that finally shun through. Shame for ever staying so long in a marriage that would very much destroy the both of them; because in the end this was a man he loved and still loved, yet would never break his own morality in such a way for.

He resisted it at first, when Bruce so suddenly enveloped him in strong arms—it wasn't so much a hug, as it was an anchor of sort—his head buried in the crook of the man's neck. His grip was tight in the older man's black shirt—an anchor for both of them, for was this truly comfort—as drops of blood from his dreamcatcher soaked into his shirt. Another dream not warded off, his magic winning the fight yet again. He did not cry, he probably would never…it was almost beyond him; his eyes dry for some time yet, but he couldn't help the deep breath he took…soothing spices envelope his senses. Something distinctly Bruce that seeped underneath his skin, and held on tight to place it had no right to.

Not now, not in this moment…and perhaps never.

This feeling, he hated it. Harry Potter never crumbled, and maybe in sense he hadn't crumbled, because even here, enveloped it an attempt of comfort he did not feel relieved. Instead his burdens felt heavier, talking didn't help. It brought up a past he claimed he was over…an amicable separation. But was it truly amicable, when it was he who forced Blaise's hand? No…it was Blaise who forced his hand first, he was old enough to leave self-blame at the door where it belonged.

"You don't have to—you don't have to say more." Bruce began, angered on the man's behalf, disgusted that a man who claimed to love such a soul would dare ask something like that of him! To sacrifice an innocent, mentally challenged or otherwise just for a child. For a moment he wished he had not pushed, even with the wizard safe against his chest, strong even now, not so much as a tremor in his body. Stiff…but still very much there.

Gotham had its share of corrupt, the _world_ had its share of corrupt; it was not surprising this revelation. It didn't stop the dark rush boiling in his blood, or the stone cold shards his eyes had become as he thought of the justice denied these women.

Justice, true justice like his own parents were denied the night they were gunned down before his very eyes.

"So I divorced him. Even though he decided on a second spouse, I left. _You are mine as I am yours_ , what a joke!" Laughed bitterly, a sound that was not so much a laugh yet neither a sob. Just raw… a raw proclamation as he refused to cower under the safety blanket of no longer speaking. He didn't need Bruce to make anything better for him, no one needed to make things better for him.

"In the end a man cannot naturally bear a child. It is impossible, unless you rob a defenceless woman of her own gift, her own magic and her right to live. In the end…the half blood and the pureblood in this instant were too different, and now you know how pathetic I truly am." Harry whispered without much emotion before he pulled away.

"You're not…" pathetic he would have said, and it was the truth. Yet, he knew that even though very much the truth, Harry would not wish to hear it now. He couldn't proclaim words of understanding, because what did he understand?! He had never lived it…but perhaps…

"Come with me." Bruce brook no argument, pulling on Harry's hand. Said man looked up in slight confusion and a bit listless.

"Let's take care of your back, and after…I want you to come with me." No other explanation than that. Harry didn't wish to move, wanted to lock himself away from the vulnerable position he put himself to, curse for being weak in a moment.

He hated it!

Hated letting his emotions go…but, if he didn't then what became of him.

Wasn't he human too?

Harry frowned for a moment, before holding tight unto a strong hand. Allowing himself to be pulled up.

* * *

"That's it! Just one more and we'll be done here!" Red Robin shouted in accomplishment, listening as Damian aka Robin ran parallel overhead, a floor separating the two.

"Why thank-you captain obvious, you've been a real help!" the younger hissed, voice muffled above. Red Robin could only role his eyes, as he pushed on ahead already hacking into the last level of one of the many underground operation sites for GothCorp. Retrieving all implicating data would be paramount, a duty Batman had trusted the both of them with. A second chance after being punished the only way that would truly hurt the both of them. Their privilege of Robin, plus being grounded and forced to work with Alfred. He loved the old man, he really did, but he could be quite evil. Harry of course looked on amused, only to sneak them snacks when Bruce 'wasn't looking.'

"Thirty seconds and we should be out a here, Robin!" Red Robin quickly spoke into the com, cursing a he heard the beeping of an explosive set to go off before time. No matter how much they had managed to accomplish together on this mission, Damian would do whatever he pleased without so much of a care. He didn't think too much of it, adrenaline pumping as he dived inside a shoot, knowing that it would lead him outside, and to the back of the property. Not the arranged checkpoint, but Damian had forced his hand.

He landed perfectly on his feet, not stalling as he weaved around abandoned buildings, muck and grime sticking to his boots as he quickly slipped into a darkened alley. A cat yowled in outrage, he almost stepping on the creature's tail, only for it to scamper off at the sudden shudder of the ground, the explosion though contained still very much visible from his vantage point.

"Did you get it, charity case?" Damian suddenly revealed himself, hanging upside down from a rusty alley ladder, before neatly flipping and landing soundlessly on his feet. Tim, because his mission was for the most part complete, didn't pay the boy much mind, other than the twitch of eyebrow as he typed away on the hologram computer he brought up.

"And it's done. Dad should be getting this as we speak." Tim muttered, looking up quickly as the sound of Damian's retreating footsteps echoed in his ear. Typical, weeks past and they hadn't gotten over their issues, probably wouldn't truly for some time yet, but then-

"Look, Damian!" Tim started, hurrying to catch up to the ten year old, falling into step with him as they both turned yet another corner, another grimy alley.

"You don't like me, and I don't like you…but whether we like it or not we're brothers-"

"You're _not_ my brother!" Damian hissed, even with his eyes covered by a mask, Tim could imagine how sharp that green glare was. Almost as sharp as the blade he still practised with, despite their father's continuous warnings.

"But I am! Just as Dick is and Jason…Jason would have been." Tim trailed off, clenching his fist as he stared steadily ahead. He could feel Damian's cold gaze, before he too looked away. Silence reigned for that moment, stubborn, childishness…pride-

"It's obvious isn't it? Dad—and I'll call him Dad because he has always been that for me whether you like it or not—he sees us both as his sons. We are both his Robin, and whether you acknowledge it or not we are both treated the same…I can't take your place, because there is no place to take!"

Damian scowled but did not deny it, his feet scuffing against the muddy earth before they finally came to a stop. Almost in sync they were back in civilian clothes, both boys pulling down their hooded jackets that it obscured their faces lightly, Tim pushing his shades up the bridge of his nose. Dressed like that, they looked so much like true brothers, blending well into the crowded streets, street lamps bright and blinding as Damian held on to Tim's larger hand. A perfect cover, even if Damian detested it, acting obviously his age, as if he needed a big brother to protect him!

"You boys should be home, not out on the streets at this hour! Even if Gotham never sleeps!" A curious, yet concerned officer lumbered over to the two as he spotted them. His eyes widened in surprise for a second, realizing that these were the Wayne boys! He rushed to get to them, but before he knew it the spot they once stood was empty, the crowd knocking into his shoulders. He shook his head, confusion in his gaze as he looked around, before he gave up. He was ok with the belief that it was a figment of is tired mind, for why would the Wayne boys be out so late in Gotham City?

He never noticed as the two boys so easily escaped the crowds, making their way to the camouflaged vehicle that would bring them home.

"So what do you say? Truce?" Tim asked, hand held out in gesture, awaiting Damian's decision. The ball was in the kid's court, this would determine how they would proceed from now on.

Damian stared at the hand for a moment before sneering, walking past Tim to get into the car.

"Don't expect me to call you big brother!" Tim couldn't help the slight laugh that left him, the breath he didn't realize he held let loose and along with it the winding tension. Right, Damian was a typical brat, he shouldn't have expected better. But even so, he saw the answer for what it was, truce accepted…at least for now.

"And don't get any ideas about Harry! The commoner is _mine_!" Damian glared before sitting with a huff in his seat, grudgingly putting on his seatbelt.

"More like Harry belongs to dad." Tim drawled before hopping in himself, he seriously needed some sleep if he was going to get through Gotham Academy in the morning.

Apparently he would be transferring upon Bruce's orders.

* * *

"Bruce, what is this?" Harry finally asked, Bruce as usual not answering as Alfred before them swung open large double doors he hadn't seen before. He would have demanded more of an answer, he really would have…but for the moment he was too drained…too-

"Easy bunny, nothing to be scared of." Bruce interrupted smoothly, a small smirk crossing his lips for a moment when Harry glared at his back. He opened his mouth to resist, ready to pull his hand from the strong grip and just return to his room like he wanted to. All of those rushing thoughts came to a stop, with the gentle sound of music. The soothing strum of a guitar—low—melding with a slow steady piano. Each key spoke directly to the soul, as the leaves outside rustled ever so loud, balcony doors swung open to reveal what many still considered the night sky.

"It is as requested Master Bruce, if that is all?" Alfred drawled, a light of amusement in his eyes as he studied where Bruce held onto Harry's arm ever so firm.

"No, that will be all Alfred." Bruce grinned ever so slightly before pulling a confused Harry to the centre of the room. It was a ball room, beautiful and awe inspiring, the walls transcribed with raised patterns, intricate paintings sprawled across the ceiling with crystal chandeliers.

"You'll be attending the upcoming charity ball alongside me. I could be a gentleman and ask nicely, but we both know what your answer would be. In that case consider this another task as is my right to issue as your sponsor." Harry stared at the man for a moment, the mellow guitar almost taunting for every whisper of the leaves outside, cold winds against his skin. Then came the drums, a hypnotic beat, the symbols such a light shushing sound that, at first you could hardly hear.

Bruce didn't look different, didn't look as if he had borne witness to his weakness not moments ago; held him in his arms. A golden card, a chance to forget if only for a moment as he held out his hand.

"Mr. Bruce, can't even find a date! So much so that you have to resort to ordering poor unsuspecting people around to fill your deficiency." Harry grinned lightly, even though it was obvious his tiredness as he accepted the hand, Bruce pulling him ever so close.

"Shame one me. Now after me, one step after the other, slow…you don't want to step on my feet now." Bruce whispered teasingly as they gently began to move across the ballroom. It was awkward at first, Harry would stumble, curse when Bruce would point his flaws. He would purposely step on the man's toes after that, getting some wicked amusement form the man's wince of pain as they lost themselves in the music.

Jazz, blues perhaps something even older…something soft, soothing as they rocked together, his head rested against a warm chest as Bruce's hands tightened around his waist ever so slightly. Before they knew it, they were on the balcony, silently accepting the other embrace, feeling each other's energy. For a moment Harry could believe that it was only them in the world. That he had no troubles, the lull of spices and Bruce in his entirety filling his senses.

"Harry?" A soft query—as deep as Bruce's voice was—as they slowly stilled, the wind twinging around them, pulling ever so gently at their clothes…curious…too curious.

He opened the eyes he hadn't realized had closed, to stare into rich brown, with specks that could surely be hazel. He didn't know why, but his heart raced, his breath short as green eyes settled on thin lips. He unconsciously tightened his grip in Bruce's shirt, something so unknown itching under his skin as those lips came ever so close. Pressed chest to chest, the beat of the other's heart so steady and that piano, that damn piano, ringing in their ears…breaths still.

So still…a tingle upon skin.

It wasn't sudden—but it was—it was something, something he couldn't explain. Not even when soft lips touched his own, not when—Bruce was ever so warm, so close, yet—slow and hesitant. A slow drag of lips against lips, moist but in the right way…his breath hitched for a moment—gently pushed against the firm balcony walls.

He didn't even give it thought, as he moaned ever so slightly, his fingers flexing as he was captured so sweetly. Almost forbidden this kiss—a pull of skin...fierce, consuming…like wild fire that could never go out. The heat coursing through his blood. He gasped, the perfect opportunity for this man, dominating presence—for Bruce to take all that he was, deepening the kiss as emotions so fierce rose within him, his body trembling. Bruce felt the same, he could tell. The way he held him, as if not to let go, kisses bruising as hands strayed, trailed down his waist to rest so dangerously low. A thigh pressed between his own, so close—yet so far. A burning need to—a passion that-

Harry pulled away so suddenly, green eyes wide as he pushed away so abrupt.

"That—that wasn't supposed to happen!" Harry whispered. It wasn't panicked, not really, even with the feel of Bruce against his lips, the touch that still lingered against his skin.

Bruce stepped forward as if to reach out, whatever came over him he would never know. Why of all times would he give in? Taste those tempting lips…lips that he still wanted to taste even in that moment. A body he wanted to feel against his own, deep green eyes locked in his gaze—surrendering to—

"Harry I'm-"

"That wasn't—it can't happen—I-" Harry pushed on, cutting Bruce off as he pushed past the man quickly as he bit his lip almost nervously.

"I—I have to go—I-" Harry trailed off, before turning to face Bruce once more.

"Good night, Mr. Wayne." He supplied softly before quickly leaving the ballroom, not before hearing the curse from Bruce's lips, the sight of the man running his hand through his hair in frustration serving to build a strange guilt within him.

Long after Harry was gone, Alfred found Bruce leaned against the balcony, day on its way to being broken, shadows reflected in the sky, woven tight with golden orange, and morning rays reaching to lengths that no man could ever judge.

"Master Bruce…coffee perhaps, or a spot of tea?"

Bruce didn't answer at first, staring out at the beautiful view, watching as nature came to life in a way so different from the clutches of night.

"Do you think I have a chance, Alfred?" Bruce asked almost as if to himself, if not for the call of the Butler's name.

"I never imagined how deep his wounds may have been when I first decided that he would be the one for you. Yet, here he still is…he hasn't run has he?" Alfred supplied.

"Fear then?" Bruce hummed.

"Attraction at times is such a sudden thing. To face them…when you wish for anything but those feelings…" Alfred agreed, without saying it outright.

"It's not how quick the journey is, it's how long I can endure it. Unfortunately for Harry, I have patience in spades." Bruce muttered, before leaving the balcony. He didn't see Alfred's light smile as he the man adjusted the soft cloth thrown over his arm.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Young Justice**

* * *

The faucet was left running, a constant stream of water that splashed against the sides of the face basin fashioned as a textured glass bowl. There were two amply spaced across the vanity, a lovely design, yet far from gaudy or too lavish. Still, as Harry mechanically brushed his teeth, slow tired motions as he pushed curly bangs out of his eyes—he had taken Ginny's clip out—he couldn't help the thought that outside the bowls were similarly textured to the Hungarian Horntail egg he had seen in the first task of the Tri-Wizard tournament.

Without much thought he rinsed his mouth, the water cold against his lips, and for a moment he seemingly paused, finger's traced over lightly plumped flush. He could still feel him, Bruce that was. How fierce the kiss had been, how they were pulled, danced against the man's own…how in that moment he so willingly allowed himself to be consumed. Cursing, Harry swiftly turned off the faucet, the remaining water swirling around the drain before he grabbed a folded towel to wipe his face. A bottle rolled across the vanity at the jostle, ZYKADIA…right he had swiped an empty bottle from his aunt Petunia's draw. He had meant to find out what it treated but…he had gotten distracted over the last two months. Giving his cheeks one last pat, an attempt to wake himself up from his straying mind, Harry was out of the bathroom, Ginny's clip being secured in place as it always was.

"Father was looking for you, I don't see why he would want to bother anyone so early in the morning." Damian snipped, glaring furiously at the tie resting innocently before the large mirror on the dresser. Harry would not admit that just maybe, it was a vanity.

"Well I hope you told him to go away for all our sakes." Harry drawled with a roll of his eyes, Damian was too much sometimes he thought in amusement. Almost like a regular routine, Harry grabbed the tie from the dresser and quickly tied a perfect knot around the boy's neatly pressed shirt collar. Damian of course scowled at it before moving away, grabbing his canvas shoulder bag as he made it to the door. Of course Tim was there, leaving his own room a light scowl on his face as he fiddled with the stupid tie he had to wear.

Harry sighed with a shake of his head, quickly closing his room door with the car keys in his hand before he made his way over the less than impressed teenager.

"You two are hopeless." Harry muttered, straightening Tim's tie, before making his way down the stairs, both children mulish behind him.

"Don't lump me in with that charity case, commoner!"

"Right back at you, cheese brain!" Tim hissed, almost tripping as Damian none to gently pushed pass him to catch up with Harry who was studiously ignoring the two, the keys almost like a chime as he turned the corner.

"You stupid bra-"

"Your satchel, Master Tim." Alfred interrupted with a raised eyebrow, his tone a dry drawl as he stood primly at the end of the staircase. A light flush of embarrassment crossed the boy's face, before he quickly took his messenger bag—it was not a satchel!—Damian looking on smugly before leaving through the open doors.

"I _can't_ stand the brat." Tim hissed under his breath, as he made to leave through the doors himself, knowing Damian, the kid would have called shotgun already!

"Yes, as he can't stand you…the woes of immature children who so happen to be brothers." Alfred drawled, before he turned on his heels to seek out Bruce. The man should probably know, that yes—Harry had evaded him despite his best efforts.

"I-" Tim didn't even bother to finish his objection before hurriedly leaning through the doors, he could hear Harry pulling up on the driveway.

* * *

"Harry?" Bruce asked Alfred without looking from his papers, shuffling them across his desk, before signing another. He hadn't much sleep, not something that handicapped him, but still…

So they were back to square one, avoidance. Harry, he would pretend like last night had never happened, like he hadn't kissed back. Perhaps he would even leave, the darkness in his eyes troubling, unfounded guilt…shame. A shame he shouldn't feel because their attraction was true, evident…and he had been separated from his husband for a year the most. A year…but were the feelings still strong, still-

"He eluded my grasp I'm afraid. Perhaps a break, Master Bruce? It was only last night that you turned his world upside down." Alfred drawled, placing a steaming cup of coffee on the desk. The third one for the day, and still counting if Bruce did not attempt to at least sleep.

Bruce paused from his writing, before he lowered the pen and folded his hands under his chin, brown eyes looking past Alfred.

"It wasn't like this with Talia." Bruce muttered, it wasn't an odd thought. Talia had been his lover in the past. One of the few he had been entangled with for a long time, until their differences were too much…even if at that point she had pleaded with him to stay. To travel her path and remain her beloved. What untainted morality he had left, the morality that he had watched cross lines and twist into something unrecognisable pulled back. He freed himself from the woman, and over time…his _love_ waned to a point as if it had never existed.

"And would you have wished him the same?" Alfred asked as he pulled the drapes open, he would never quite understand Bruce's affliction for dark spaces, perhaps too much of the bat had leached into the actual man.

"MACUSA, they know that I exist. I rather they know-"

"That you are the Batman? Yes, they've known for some time now." Alfred accepted the subject change for what it was, at least for now.

"And you didn't think is necessary for me to know this? I've been trying to get as much information on these people, way before your plot that brought Harry here, and yet-"

"Statute of Secrecy, Harry Potter has openly spoken to you of Wizards, mentioned is wand before you…yet no charges from the wizarding authority. Not a sighting of the famous aurors who could so easily drag one away to Alcatraz." Alfred drawled, an unasked question in his tone as he stood primly before Bruce, his hands folded at his back.

Bruce stopped short at that, a frown on his face before he leaned back in his leather chair.

"I'm under surveillance. How long?" Bruce was not amused, his tone dark, an edge to it as he studied the non-pulsed butler.

"When I came up with this scheme, I did not lie that Harry, should you gain his loyalty could pull strings to protect you, once I myself became too old." Alfred began, the familiar twinge in his knees that he had ignored for so long returning in that moment.

"The moment Harry stepped foot inside this house, the moment you looked away from MACUSA to focus on Harry himself, MACUSA cast their gaze upon you." Silence enveloped the two for a moment, Bruce stare heavy as he assessed his Butler. The man who raised him, the man who he saw as his father.

"Do they find me a threat?" Bruce finally asked, pen back in his hand as he began singing papers again, as if this situation was none of concern.

"The Batman, Dark Knight of Gotham City. Bruce Wayne, multi-billionaire philanthropist; a No-Maj with considerable political weight and influence not only in the United States of America, but internationally. A threat…but now Harry Potter in your picture…an ally perhaps." Alfred simply answered.

"Then it is a done deal, I won't use Harry just to get on MACUSA's good side." Bruce tone was serious, another paper filed, as he closed the dockets and stared outside as the garden. Mr. Tomin was trimming the edges he could see, the clipper slipping from his hands for just a second as he almost fell from his ladder.

"As it should be, Master Bruce. I would have been most displeased, I am quite fond of the young lad. He takes well to our frequent lessons. He should be able to heal your major wounds when the day comes that the Batman becomes truly active once more." Alfred smiled slightly, remembering how green eyes lit up in wonder when he taught him yet another muggle technique that the archaic wizards of Britain would never fathom.

"Bunny is a quick learner." Bruce smirked lightly, only for it to slowly fade as images of the night before flashed through his mind. Soft lips against his own, a warm body…that tiny gasp as thin finger held on so tight to his shirt. Pressed so close…only for the man to pull away. Leaving him with the dangerous stir of want in his loins; a heat he could feel even now.

How odd his attraction when once…he would have never thought it capable to be sexually stirred by another man. But Harry wasn't just another man…and it wasn't only his body that truly aroused him was it? No—even if he hadn't realized it over the time they had in each presence—last night truly spoke to how much he wanted the man.

"Talia, she didn't stir that true primal need in you to chase. She was never innocent or a breath of fresh air. She was a burden, even if could not see it then…perhaps the only good thing is our dear Damian." Alfred spoke firm but soft, it was the conversation Bruce had avoided with talks of MACUSA, his last input on the matter.

"Perhaps, after the ball. I should really draw Bunny out of his shell, let him see how truly serious I am." Bruce smirked lightly, paying no mind as Alfred left with a nod of his head.

* * *

"What did he do?" Damian scowled unhappily, garnering a raised eyebrow from Harry as he turned onto the street that would lead them to Gotham Academy. Tim couldn't help but roll his eyes in the back seat, Damian sending a glare through the side mirror at him. Tim only shrugged nonchalantly before staring outside the window. He wasn't looking forward for his new school.

" _Dad I mean_ , what did he do? It obvious he did something because you're avoiding him!" Damian huffed, folding his hands over his chest. Annoyed that he had to repeat himself to the commoner, Harry could be so slow sometimes!

Harry froze, not something that would not go unnoticed by the two boys, as Damian narrowed his gaze and Tim sat up, leaning over the space between the passenger seat and driver's seat. Harry's hand flexed on the steering wheel, before tightening, the indicator turned on as the Gotham Academy came in sight.

"Nothing. Your father did nothing Damian, I'm just being silly."

Both boys exchanged glances, wondering what that could have meant. Damian was about to ask just that, but Tim beat him to the punch. He could have been annoyed, but if he got his answers what did it matter who asked.

"Being silly with what?" Tim ventured carefully, he liked Harry. He was sure when Dick finally met him he would like him too. He didn't like seeing that dark shadow in his eyes, and the fact that his dad might have put it there. Did they…did they have a lover's spat? Even though there weren't…at least not yet.

"Just silly Tim, and if you two don't get out you'll be late for your first session." Harry evaded, smiling lightly as he gestured to the towering building, students loitering about. Tim leaned back with a drawn out sigh, Damian scowling as he unhooked his seatbelt and left the car.

"Do I have to?" Tim almost sounded like he was wining, really he did and Harry couldn't help but snort at that.

"Go on kid, how much trouble could you possibly get into in one day?" Harry teased, holding in the laughter as Tim sighed yet again, filled with melodrama as he muttered off possibilities with Damian attending the same school as him.

Tim quickly made his way over to where Damian waited impatiently, a raised eyebrow as a woman with quite a long neck and tight bun, greying at the edges scowled tapped her foot beside the ten year old. In the background the low hum of the car driving off echoed in his ear, Harry leaving for his own morning session at the university.

"Well if it isn't another of Bruce Wayne's disappointing mistakes." The woman sneered, earning an instant glare from both boys, not that she noticed as she turned away.

"Come Tim _Wayne_ , I don't have all day to cater to you." The woman snipped. Tim and Damian both shared an unreadable look for a moment, before they both followed after the woman, Damian branching off to his own class soon after.

* * *

"The white one or the blue?" Roselle asked as she twirled in the mirror. Her friend Stacey frowned at the woman, adjusting her glasses on the brim of her nose, before closing her book.

"I still think this is a bad idea, Roselle. You shouldn't go to this ball, who there will even know you much less speak to you. Bruce Wayne will not have the time of day for you as he conducts business." Stacey sighed. She neatly tucked a strand of almost honey coloured hair behind her ear as she sat up on Roselle's bed.

"Stacey-"

"No! This is stupid, I don't understand your fascination with that man! He isn't this knight and shining armour you make him out to be!" Stacey pushed on, fed up with how ridiculous her friend was being. What happened to the intelligent woman who worked her way up to the high position she now held? The same woman who steamrolled through university without a trouble, with so many job prospects lined up at her door.

"You don't know him!" Roselle shouted, spinning around to glare at her friend, the blue dress she had been examining in the mirror held tightly to her chest.

"Neither do you! Don't you see what he's doing to you?!" Stacey shouted, her hand flung so violently that she almost took down the lampshade on the nightstand.

"He's not Lex Luthor! You work for a tyrant, you wouldn't understand someone like Bruce!"

"Mr. Wayne, Roselle! He's Mr. Wayne, never Bruce to you!" Stacey was frustrated now, grabbing up her book as she made to leave. She saw the look in her friend's eyes, if she stayed, they both would say things they would regret.

"It's a charity ball, it's not business. With an environment like that-"

"He's an influential business tycoon, no event is ever just for fun. Besides, won't he have a date? A date that rumours has it is the very person that held his interest for two months and counting…how could you think you have a chance?" Stacey whispered softly, feeling pity for the woman.

Before she left she looked at the white dress, elegantly laid out on the bed.

"Wear the white one, and accessories well. You'll be rubbing shoulders with elite wives and sharp business men." With that last advice, Stacey was gone.

Roselle sighed, pulling at the tight bun her fiery hair was held in, before sitting tiredly on her bed. She felt unsure now, but…the ball was tomorrow night. She would go, pack her bags and board her train at 7:00 pm. It would work, and if it didn't…there was always-

* * *

"I must say the mid-semesters where…less than satisfactory. A majority of this class failed the law and regulation section in quite a spectacular manner. Only seven person's managed to pass, Ms. Griffiths in with the highest score, followed by Mr. Donahue and Mr. Potter." Dr Lindale spoke primly, three papers held up in his hand as he paced lightly at the front of the lecture theatre.

"Peters, before you even open your mouth don't get me started on that project that should have been a group effort mind you! At this level, I expect true research to be conducted before even attempting a project like this. A paper on Gotham Orphanages, anyone worth their salt knows the institution is well funded by Bruce Wayne himself!" Lindale glared before slapping the papers down on the podium.

Harry didn't so much as twitch at the mention of Bruce Wayne's name. Peter's glaring at him as if he was the cause of the man's problems. He didn't realize that by going solo, and forcing him to go solo both their projects would not be appointed maximum marks. They would be lucky if they passed much less.

The lecture room grew loud with muffled chatter as students looked at the two, before flickering knowing eyes at Peters who scowled at too inquisitive glances, his pencil snapped in two.

"Don't. Say. A word!" Peter's hissed under his breath, Harry snorting lightly as he leaned back in his chair.

"That being said, another major project is coming up! It's worth sixty percent of your final grade, so be ready. If you have nothing to say to me, that is all for today." Dr Lindale gave out gruffly, handing out papers as students left the lecture room.

"Hey Potter, congratulations!" Donahue, the one that had beaten Harry's score by five marks grinned as he extended his hand in a friendly gesture. He was a handsome man in his own way, sharp cheekbones, awfully slender but who was Harry to talk. He had piercing grey eyes behind round glasses, almost comically like the ones he used to have at Hogwarts and an easy smile.

"Thank-you, and you too." Harry accepted easily, shaking the offered hand as Donahue's girlfriend called for him at the door, a pleasant smile on her face as she watched the two.

Donahue rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, before nodding his head and making to leave, but suddenly he stopped.

"There's this fancy charity ball my family is forcing me to attend, you wouldn't happen to be going will you?" It was an odd question, one met with a raised eyebrow from Harry.

"Awfully forward aren't you?" Harry frowned, though if you looked closer you would see the tiny twitch at the edge of his lips.

"N—No! I didn't mean like—it's just that your car—the unique design, it's Bruce Wayne's signature all over it!"

"And what exactly or you implying!" Harry could feel the anger bubbling under his skin. Temper—temper, that trait of Harry Potter would always be there. Donahue…or rather Quincy, because that was his first name winced at his obvious slip, before putting his hand up in surrender.

"I just…can we be friends? I mean you seem cool and if you're going to the ball then, it's one less stuffy snob to talk to." Quincy rushed out, paling slightly under the heavy green gaze, before Harry seemingly cut the man a break.

"See you there, Quincy." Harry muttered, before walking past the man, his phone buzzing off suddenly in his pocket.

On the screen in bold, with graves as the background, _Gotham Academy_.

* * *

"I will not stand for such disrespect in my own-"

"Dios mio! It's everywhere, it's—oh sweet baby Jesus! It's in the hallways! What demon madness tis be upon us!" A hysterically scream interrupted the headmistress of Gotham Academy. A booming voice that wailed down the hallways, rapid footsteps and terrified cries.

Harry, frowned, sending the two miscreants who sat innocently to the side of the office, a sharp glare; both looking anywhere but at Harry as Tim twiddled his thumbs, and Damian scowled at the wall.

The headmistress cleared her throat, fixing her glasses as she pointedly ignore the putrid stench that emitted from her own body, her crisp suite plastered with suspiciously brown runny _liquid_ that dripped from her lens.

"These two devils! They launched an attack on our school today, blasting lavatories off their hinges and flooding the halls and offices with-"

"Blasting! Come now, you jest Ms. Shitles-"

"It is _Mrs. Shytsten_! Mr. Potter!" The headmistress snapped, rising from her seat, slipping as her heel caught on the disgusting puddle that had settled beneath her, her ankle twisting as the padding of her heel flapped about.

It had become dislodged it seemed.

"Mrs. Shitstain. How could two boy's possible blast as you put it, twenty toilets off their hinges to flood your halls and offices with excrement?" Harry drawled with a straight face, pointedly ignoring Tim's snickers behind him.

"But it was them!" Mrs. Shytsten, snarled, reaching over the table as if to grab Harry by his collar, her long nails extended.

"I would think twice on that. Wouldn't want you to suspiciously lose a finger or two now would we, _Mrs. Shitstain_." Harry glared, his eyes hidden by dark shadows as he abruptly stood, the boy's standing close behind him almost instantly.

"I—I—they should be suspended! The hooligans, they will be-" Mrs. Shytsten scowled, eyes spelling murder as she looked beyond Harry to see two smirking devils. She was right to call them Bruce Wayne's mistake! Hooligans the lot of them, and this _homosexual_ who seemed to be Bruce Wayne's new toy. What else could he be, a grown man called mother, living with an older man and seemingly worked not a day in his life!

Almost as if he could hear her thoughts, Harry's glare became dagger, sharp enough to peel the flesh from her bones and slowly drain her of blood. She swallowed tightly, hands itching nervously as the man so suddenly turned to leave, the two boys at his back.

"Holly mother of gia! It's in my mouth! It's in my goddamn mouth!" It seemed the school would be needing a counselling session sometime soon, if that poor hysterical man was any indicator.

"The way I see it, you have no proof that they did it. It is even ridiculous the thought that two young boys could rig toilets with explosives. Perhaps what you should do is invest in a proper plumbing system for your _esteemed_ institution!" With that biting remark, Harry was gone and along with him the Wayne boys but not before Tim grinned at the woman, a taunt from his lips as Damian looked on smugly.

"Decrepit bitch"

* * *

"You're both not off the hook!" Harry glared at the two who uncharacteristically high-fived as they both walked through the manor doors, Alfred looking on with a raised eyebrow.

"But Harry, it was-"

"Dangerous, reckless, risky! What if they-" Harry scowled, unknowing of how much he resembled an irate mother as both boys shrunk back if only a little in light of his rage.

"What's dangerous and reckless?" Bruce suddenly interrupted, slowly descending the stairs, his hair I tousled and his grey almost black shirt rolled up to his sleeves. It was obvious the man had just woken up, as he leaned over the railing to look down at the strange gathering.

"Your brats that's who!" Harry spun around to glare at Bruce, as if he was the cause of all of this, pointedly ignoring the protest from said brats. Knowing the man, he probably was the cause of this.

"Father, we only exercised righteous judgment!" Damian protested, not admitting to himself that he shrank just a little bit when furious green eyes pinned him in place.

"The old biddy was asking for it! She called us Bruce Wayne's mistakes!" Tim backed up Damian, swallowing when it was his turn to face Harry's gaze. How he had never realized the snake like quality in the man's eyes when he was angry, he would never know. But gosh, was this what an angry mother looked like?—because Harry was seriously scary!

"They blew up the school toilets and shit was everywhere Bruce! Everywhere! Don't get me started on the fact that you two used explosives where a bunch of civilians-" Harry started after the two angrily, said boy's having no shame when they scampered behind Alfred. They were saved just yet as Bruce, quickly made it down the last few steps, and grabbing Harry by the waist as he fought comically to get at the boys.

"Easy bunny! We can kill the brats after we get packed for our trip." Bruce grunted as harry elbowed him in his stomach.

"Grounded! You're both grounded and I won't stop there I-"

"You can't ground us, commoner!" Damian shouted from his spot behind Alfred, scowling when Tim told him to shut up.

"Oh I can't?" The question was too pleasant, a wide smile on Harry's face as he stopped struggling in Bruce's hold. He didn't even care that the man he had been avoiding was so close to him, caught up in his rage at the recklessness of the two.

Suddenly Harry's wand appeared in his hand, sparks flying as Alfred couldn't help the light drawl of-

"Oh dear."

"Watch me!" Harry snarled, barely blasting off a light stinging hex as Bruce comically lifted him off his feet and dragged him upstairs.

"Mercy, show mercy Bunny! We'll deal with your kids later." Bruce snorted, wincing when a sharp glare was sent his way from the princess carry he had the man in.

"Let go of me you bloody, two faced wanker!"

"Well at least you're lively again, Bunny." Bruce drawled, not even bothering to stop the roll of his eyes.

* * *

Harry sighed for what might have been the millionth time, anxiously pressing down the soft wool gabardine with the palm of his hands. It had been a few hours since both he and Bruce had left Wayne manor, travelling at high speeds—as it was obvious Bruce Wayne cared not for speed limits—to reach another city miles away. They could have taken a plane and cut down travel time. The private Ferry even, but Bruce saw it as simply a waste of money when he could drive them comfortably himself. It was a charity ball, and despite what many may think, that wasn't a setting Bruce Wayne would lord his wealth over others.

The drive had been awkward to say the least, at least for Harry that is. After his little flare of anger at the two brats for doing something so reckless, Bruce pulling his struggling body away, they had gone back to square one. As soon as he was put down, he quickly made the excuse that he had to pack for their trip; it wasn't a lie, they were staying overnight after all, maybe even an extra day if business negotiations went well. He didn't care at the moment that Bruce had called after him, skilfully avoiding the reaching hand as he secured himself away in his room.

One kiss shouldn't have affected him so.

Another sigh, and small twist of his body, left then right, Harry looked into the mirror. He didn't look too bad he thought, the outfit was perfect for the outside event, dressed in a sleek form fitting trench coat, double breasted with four buttons on each side. It reached just mid-thigh, the black material lined with silk inside fitting almost too perfectly to his slender form. The collars were high, as all trench coat were; but not too much, neither were they wide , showing of the casually unbuttoned neck of a crisp cotton shirt underneath.

All together he looked…nice, the coat accentuating the equally crisp black pants he wore, as form fitting as everything else he had on, and his curly hair a small side part as the tresses fell neatly around his face, barely brushing his shoulders, Ginny's clip absent.

"I chose well." Harry would have jumped if he hadn't already know he had been watched. Frowning for a second before he turned to see Bruce casually leaned against the door frame. Bruce had purchased a hotel room for just a few hours—he wasn't planning on staying—for them to get ready. It helped that the same hotel was hosting the charity ball in the lavish gardens east side of the rooms.

"It's too fitting." Harry disagreed, his hand unconsciously smoothing the material held so closely to his thigh, pointedly ignoring as Bruce gaze followed his every movement.

"It's a modern cut. It's supposed to be form fitting." Bruce argued lightly, before entering the room. If Harry hadn't any control he would be staring at the figure that Bruce presented. His hair was slicked back, not too much; just enough that he looked as sharp as the great white he was in the business world. A dark blue trench coat, much larger than Harry's, it wasn't form fitting, hanging off his shoulders, as underneath he wore a crisp suit, his tie neatly tucked into the blazer buttoned at the centre.

"Harry, last night-"

Harry didn't even give Bruce the chance to start the conversation as he lightly grabbed his leather gloves from the man and pulled them unto his hands.

"We're going to be late Mr.-"

"Harry! _Don't_. Just listen for minute!" Bruce almost shouted, grasping at Harry's arm before the man could make it out the door.

"I don't want to listen for a minute, Bruce! I don't want to talk about how we kissed, how stupid of me it was for wanting it, even now with you right in front of me! For loving it, when I just got divorced, and I haven't a bloody clue who you really are!" Harry shouted, pulling his arm away fiercely, before distancing himself from Bruce. He had said too much, and seeing Bruce's dark gaze, how emotionless it may have seemed to anyone else, he knew in truth he had revealed too much.

Stupid, impulsive Gryffindor!

He resisted the need to step back when Bruce stepped forward, a slow measured step, his eyes shadowed, and his body looming. You would have thought the man angry, the way his fist clenched.

"So you don't deny it. You just insist on running because you're scared." Bruce whispered dangerously, his baritone almost growling, his form so close to Harry he could feel the heat seeping into his own.

"I'm. Not. Scared." Harry glared, unconsciously stepping back, the dangerous glint in Bruce's eyes making him exceedingly uncomfortable, as if the man would see his lies laid bare before them both.

Harry didn't even realize it, how suddenly he was backed against the door, framed by muscled arms as Bruce almost glared at him, denying him the chance to escape.

"Then why are you running?" Bruce whispered, there was nothing soft about it. It might have been terrifying, the full force of Bruce's attention so suddenly; so different from Blaise, so different from anyone he had ever been attracted to. How easy it was to forget that Bruce Wayne wore multiple faces, how easy it was to forget how dangerous his resolve could be if he wanted something desperately enough.

Harry's heart throbbed. His throat dry even as he glared at the man, pushing at his chest as he forced the man away.

"The kiss shouldn't have happened. It _won't_ ever happen again, now if we're done here, we have a ball to attend, _Mr. Wayne_." There was nothing in Harry's voice, just cold rejection, even when his hands trembled ever so slightly. He didn't even give Bruce one backwards glance as he silently let himself out, the hall lights hesitantly caressing the tips of Bruce's leather shoes.

* * *

Muffled chatter, laughing women with plastic smiles, draped in fur coats and thick beautiful scarves. Their flowing gowns, sparkling in the night, necks draped in pearls and sparkling rubies. Men with gruff laughs and dapper suits, one man tipping his hat as a woman walked by, a sway of rounded hips.

The annual charity ball, a place where money should be donated by the wealthy to many respectable and underfund causes. A place where the rich displayed their wares to in the guise of a humanitarian spirit, Joker like grins and blackened stubs for souls.

"A big turnout this time wouldn't you say, Bruce?" Dr Winslow grinned, his aged vice gruff as he patted his rounded belly. He wasn't doctor by profession, no he had earned the title through a marketing PhD, wore it with pride. He belonged to one of Gotham's major families, the Winslows; a snobby bunch, except for the very man who spoke to Bruce, a man who cared little for social class.

"It can't be helped, the moment the name Wayne is mentioned vultures turn out in the droves if only to say they have procured my favour." Bruce muttered, nursing a class of Dalmore. The whisky, a familiar burn down his throat as he watched Harry flitter about the crowd with a narrowed gaze. The man so far had blended in well enough, not to the level of a seasoned socialite, but with enough charm that those who didn't seemingly dismiss him, held on to his words; ever curios.

"Lovely isn't he, it was quite a surprise when you turned up with that young man on your…well he wasn't on your arm was he? He didn't seem to want to be in your presence much." Winslow fished for the details, not at all subtle as he taught himself to be. It wasn't every day the once assumed to be completely heterosexual male, would bring a man as his plus one. A lovely man he would admit, but still a _man_ despite the fact that sexuality wasn't so much fascinating news in their present day.

Bruce didn't answer, grip on his glass tight as green eyes caught his own momentarily, before the wizard bit his lips lightly before looking away as if he had not seen him. They were a pair, but they were not acting as much. After their argument, emotions were running high. Bruce was angry and Harry…Harry was something, standing from his vantage point he couldn't quite tell.

"Ah, isn't that Quincy Donahue? Strapping young man if I've ever seen any! He's pursuing a Master's in Child Health Care and Development I believe!" Winslow praised, unaware of Bruce's tight grip on the glass that cracked in his hand. Unaware how his gaze burned into Harry's back, eyes sharp as this Quincy Donahue approached the wizard with such familiarity, garnering an amused raise of an eyebrow from the man.

"Mr. Wayne?" a soft hesitant voice, Roselle his secretary. Bruce was momentarily confused by her sudden appearance, eyes trained on the woman dressed in flowing white, a glass of whisky held out to him, as if to replace the now empty glass in his own hand.

* * *

Harry tried his best to avoid Bruce's stare. The man was making it obvious too. Seemingly everywhere he went those eyes were on him, burning into his skin like the torturous flames of fiendfyre. A sure message that this, whatever _this_ was…it was far from over.

"Potter you say? I've never heard the name." A woman sniffed disdainfully, her gaggle of housewives giggling behind her as she looked down her nose at the wizard.

"Bruce Wayne's toy and charity case, if I've ever seen one?" She her smiled was wicked, eyes glinting as if she had won some upper hand. Not that Harry paid her much mind as he easily took a small plate of shrimp from the passing waiter.

"Sorry, you're Mr. Dallas's aunt?" Harry feigned confusion, the woman wrinkling her nose in distaste before huffing.

"I'm his wife!" She sneered, more giggling from her 'gang'.

Harry gave her a perplexed look, purposely taking a large bite if his shrimp before flickering his gaze around unsurely.

"But that can't be right! Isn't that Mr. Dallas over there with his wife Petrova, she's a model you know! They were kissing and everything just back there where everyone could see!" Harry tilted his head cutely, watching as the woman screeched, blushing in shame as she stormed over to her husband, women following closely behind.

"Now that wasn't nice." Harry grinned, when his classmate Quincy walked up to him with a large smile, the echoing slap across Mr. Dallas' cheeks and the woman's outraged voice bringing undue attention upon the two.

"That wasn't even marginally true, and now you have the woman embarrassing both herself and her husband before these judging masses!" Quincy laughed, spying his girlfriend watching the drama like her latest soap opera.

"Well she was rather foul, living proof that cow dung can actually sprout legs and walk!" Harry drawled, shivering lightly at the heavy gaze at his back again. Quincy of course spied the action, looking over Harry's shoulder to see Bruce Wayne staring at the two, before he dismissed a quite beautiful woman he was speaking to, a new glass of whisky in his hand.

"What's that about?" Quincy asked curiously, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as Harry finally turned to look at Bruce's retreating figure.

"It's…it's nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing." Quincy muttered suspiciously, earning a strange look from Harry before he sighed, handing the plate to the boy.

"I'll see you around, Quincy." Harry muttered, making his way to the opening of the freshly cut garden maze he had seen Bruce despair into.

* * *

Bruce didn't say a word as Harry silently sat beside him, the moon casting an eerie glow on both of them in the middle of the maze. They could hear the light music from charity ball, the event in full swing as laughter became louder than ever and businessmen made friendly jeers at their competitors.

"This charity ball is a bore." Harry muttered, the first to break the cold silence as Bruce continued to sip at his whiskey. Roselle had insisted he take it, not before he had dismissed her in annoyance as he watch Harry be just a bit too friendly with this _Donahue_.

"Yes, as boring as your new friend…Quincy Donahue was it." Bruce muttered, placing the glass beside him, flexing his fingers if just to contain himself. Something felt off, like ants under his skin for a moment, before the feeling gradually faded as if just a ghost of his imagination.

"You don't _own me_ , Bruce Wayne." Harry glared for a moment, before sighing, bracing back on his hands as he looked up at the moon. He barely heard Bruce's frustrated sigh as he whispered under his breath.

"No, I do not."

Silence consumed them for a while, Harry shivering strange enough even cloaked up in his trench coat. Without a word Bruce removed his own, placing them over the slight wizard's shoulder, a moment of amusement as green eyes widened just a tiny bit, before Harry pulled the coat closer.

"Come, I think it's time we leave." Bruce sighed, suddenly tired of the night, already on his feet as he turned to face Harry.

Said man ran a slender finger around the rim of the glass, a soft hum, that echoed in their ears before he finally stopped.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry Bruce for…" Harry frowned, stopping himself as he looked at the glistening amber liquid.

Bruce didn't even bother to push it, running a hand through his hair as he extended the other for Harry to take.

"Let's go." Bruce muttered, watching curiously as Harry frowned before downing the rest of the very whiskey he had been drinking. Amused at the man's sudden wince, and look of disgust. Without word Harry took Bruce's hand, stumbling for a moment that he fell against Bruce chest. The man was quick to catch him, hands winding around a slim waist as Harry rested his head at the grove of his neck, his breath hot, and easily picking up pace.

Hand's tightened in his shirt as Harry seemingly squirmed.

"Harry?" Bruce frowned, looking down curiously as said man finally tilted his head up. Green eyes, were dilating, a constant in and out contraction as a red flush slowly painted his red cheeks.

"B-Bruce, somethi—something's wrong! The drink!" Harry trembled, feeling as if a thousand ants were crawling under his skin, his heart hammering. He couldn't think, almost couldn't see, the smell of Bruce invading his senses, his pants tightening in arousal as he squirmed against the hard body. The strange aftertaste of flowers and something bitter…this tasted like a lust potion! But that couldn't-

"Bruce!" Harry cried out, heart hammering in his ears, his grip tight enough to tear the man's shirt.

" _Please-_ "

* * *

Harry gasped as he was slammed against their room door, gasping as he wrapped his trembling legs around Bruce. He couldn't keep track, everything was like a blur as fire blazed under his skin, and drums beat heavily in his ear. He was locked around Bruce, grinding against rough fabric, itching to get at _something_! _Anything_ .He just wanted to cool this heat! Bruce—Bruce—Bruce, he could cool this heat. He all but tore at Bruce lips, the man biting his own...rough, animalistic as he consumed him whole. Their tongues waged war, a hot glide over the other, large hands gripping his ass, biting into the supple flesh underneath the tight restraint of his pants. It stung, it sang, it erupted in torrents of lava as he bucked against the blazing tower that was Bruce. Wanting, he wanted! Bruce—Bruce—Bruce, the man protesting-

"H-Harry wait—!"

He didn't want to wait! He wanted Bruce! Sweat slick down his back, length pulsing, pressed against something entirely large, hot, wanting—he wanted it!

He wanted Bruce inside him.

Hot! So hot—Big! Yes big and hot—and—

He winced when Bruce growled, capturing his hand over his head, biting into the skin of neck. His body seized, spots flying like supernova ships beyond his site, and his length a terrifying pulse as he fought his restraints.

No! No—No—No! He wanted—he needed—what—did he—

Pupils blown wide, Harry's body jerked as a strong thigh was pushed between his legs, his body shifted so Bruce could get at the door, get them inside! The pressure was too much, that thigh he wanted to clamp around. He boxers wet, so wet where he wanted Bruce desperately. Wanted hot hands, and pull of skin. Slick, salt and piercing pain of a bite, of a nip...cooling breath that tingled, as that hungry centre between full cheeks, clenched, pulsed begged for-

Bruce cursed as his grip slipped, Harry escaping his hold as nimbles hands found the fly of his pants, the zipper loud in his ear, as his hand flew to Harry's bowed head, so dangerously close to his aching girth.

Damn it! What the hell was this! How the hell did this ha—

He grunted, teeth clenched as Harry—panting breaths so loud that the entire hall must be hearing him—mouthed at the bulge in his boxers. Another pulse as he so coyly looked up, smirk in place as he licked a wet trail up his covered length, teeth grazing a touch too close to the trembling skin of his v-cut. The vixen was enjoying this, green eyes clouded with lust, as hands hooked around heavy balls. A languid stroke, just one measly barrier between skin on skin, a tight wet glide that-

"Shit!" Bruce groaned out, pulling Harry harshly from the ground as finally got the damn door open!

"No! Bru-" He didn't even hear the rest of Harry's protest, tunnel vision taking over as he shoved the wizard under the cold shower. Not caring how said wizard cursed, tried to latch unto him one more time.

Bruce leaned heavily against the bathroom vanity, little lotion bottles and soaps clattering to the ground. He could hear hammering against the glass wall of the shower, the silhouette of Harry's body pressed temptingly against the frosted glass. The call of a wicked siren as he grabbed his overheated member and just _squeezed_ , seeing before his eyes that wicked pink tongue, how it glided slowly over silk, catching on the material as the damn wizard smirked at him.

How it would feel on bare skin, how far it would fit, how deep he would take him, green eyes watering, lips blood red-

"Damn it to _hell_!" Bruce cursed, a frustrated hand pulled through his hair, before he was storming out of the bathroom, the lock closed tight; ignoring Harry's hitching breath and tempting moans.

* * *

Bruce didn't know how long he sat there, shirt torn open, the fly of his pants down as, he dragged frustrated hands through his more than messy hair at this point. The shower was still going, that he was sure of, and silent thuds told him Harry was still alive—he didn't drown—that's good.

"What the hell is this?!" Bruce hissed furiously, mind furiously working through all the events of the ball. Harry and that man—Quincy it was, the screaming woman and her embarrassed husband. Roselle and that glass of whisky—Rosell.

The same glass of whiskey Harry had downed, moments after he proclaimed something was wrong!

"If you believe that woman is responsible for your predicament, then you are partially right, Bruce Wayne otherwise known as the man of bat." Before the speaker could even move, Bruce was behind her, a sharp fork held at her pulsing artery. She didn't even see when the man had moved, a gust of wind and then he was there. A formidable man, she could see why he interested her superiors.

"You have three seconds to tell me who you are! One-"

"Mary Jauncey, Auror of the Magical Congress of the United States of America."

"MACUSA." At the drained voice, Bruce stepped back to see Harry leaning almost lifelessly against the bathroom door. Somehow unlocking—magic of course—the doors. His hair was still wet, dripping unto his shoulders, sliding down pale skin, to disappear into a large white office shirt—his shirt—the material stopping mid-thigh.

Bare silky thighs that not too long were wrapped around him.

"You have been—both of you have been dosed with a level three lust potion, five being the highest, Mr. Wayne." Mary spoke softly, reaching into her robes to hand the still very much suspicious man a round container of what looked like salve.

"An antidote, though I'm afraid you must administer the salve to Lord Black's skin yourself if it should ever hope to work."

"Harry, just call me Harry." Said wizard muttered, slowly making his way to the bed where he stretched out none too elegantly.

"The Non-Maj Roselle, she purchased this item from an illegal wizarding store disguised as a silly hovel for fake love potions and mild aphrodisiac. Unfortunately it was too late when we realized she had dosed you, Mr. Wayne"

"You've been watching us, watching me. How could something like this so easily-" Bruce began angrily, but stopped at Harry's sudden hitch of breath. His skin was flushed red again, and his chest was heaving.

"Administer the antidote, Mr. Wayne. In due time all will be clear once more." With that the woman was simply gone. No sound, no-

"Bruce." Harry whispered, green eyes trained on the ceiling as he reached for something none of the two could see. With a long suffering sigh, Bruce sat close to the wizard, swallowing slightly when dilated green eyes locked with his.

"I—I not going to jump you this time." Harry grinned, breath hitching as he parted his thighs, slightly, the white shirt a tempting drag on his heated skin.

"You sure about that." Bruce smirked tiredly, a good amount of the salve on his fingers as he hesitantly trailed them up the man's thigh. Harry shuddered at the touch, barely keeping it together as he bit his lips, eyes closed as he grabbed at the bed sheets.

Bruce wasn't unaffected, his eyes trained on trembling thighs as he worked the salve into the wizard's skin, how his chest heaved, pebbled nipples teasing through the fabric. Perked enough to-

Harry, suddenly grabbed his hand, he hadn't realized it, but it was dangerously close to Harry's naked length. Still pulsing hot, evidence he could see under the thin shirt, his hand a strange rise under that very shirt.

"I think that's enough now." Harry whispered, both their gaze burning, wanting so much more. The problem was that out of the two, one wasn't ready to fall just yet, give in…despite the circumstances.

"Right, I'm going to take a shower." Bruce, his voice was rough. Heated that the hand that had yet to move from Harry's skin made it hard to swallow.

"Right." Harry whispered, his bare thighs shifting, the parting ever so slightly at the centre. Bruce gaze strayed, before he suddenly got up, silently making his way to the shower.

"Right." Harry repeated softly, turning on his side, the off yet soothing scent of the salve calming his racing heart.


	16. Chapter 16

_Disclaimer_ _: I do not own Harry Potter of Young Justice_

* * *

_Dear Harry,_

_I…I don't even know where to begin, what to say…how to help you end this. No, it's not that I don't know what to say…it's just that you may not listen. You know it's true Harry! With thing like this…you rarely listen, and then you get yourself in this mess that you never seem to be able to crawl out of._

_I'm not criticizing, you know I'm not. Merlin! I'm the last person to be criticizing anyone about anything, especially…love, or at least attraction._

_This…it seems like a good thing Harry, a year and a couple of months…you're not obligated to keep your life on hiatus. You don't owe Blaise Zabini anything! You know that, he knows that…so why…_

_You don't love him Harry! I saw it in your eyes the moment you said you had gotten married to that…that…_

_I won't be unfair, I won't disrespect you by disrespecting him…even if my feelings are less than…It's not the point._

_You won't give this Bruce Wayne a chance why? The feelings he has for you and the one you have for him…it's mutual. Harry, you ingested a lust potion and he still respected you enough to stop, to not…he doesn't sound horrible, or deceitful even. I can't claim to know him though, I can only go off what you've told me…_

_Your problem Harry…_

_You need closure, that's what this is all about. You can't move on because you've never given yourself the chance. You divorced him in the shadows, avoided him, and buried your hurt and pain. And I was all for that, stupid of me perhaps…please don't give me that hogwash about not hurting, you were hurt Harry! You wanted…_

_Look…you will continue to circle endlessly until you have figured yourself out…worse you might let go of something just because you won't get yourself out of the rut you've put yourself in._

_Harry, I hate this but…_

_Maybe…_

_Maybe you need to go for a minute, leave for just that second and immerse yourself in that silence you love so much._

_Closure, Harry…_

_You need closure._

_Neville Longbottom_

_Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Longbottom_

* * *

She was panicking, it was obvious as her throat clogged up and sweat slicked the exposed skin of her back. What did she do! Why did she-

Damn it!

Roselle, pushed past the patrons of the charity ball, uncaring as she stumbled over her own two feet, knocked down servers, the torrent of red hair pinned tightly atop her head coming loose. It was a simply aphrodisiac, that's what the lady had said; one drop alone and Bruce Wayne would realize his attraction for her. It sounded stupid really, a scam at most, but she was so desperate. She loved him, she truly loved him! Why couldn't he see that, why didn't he ever look at her? Tears burned her eyes as she rushed into the elevator, constantly tapping the ground level button, as if the anxious motions would make it move any faster.

In the distance a tray of glasses fell from a waiter, shattering across the ground, a startled scream of a young woman drawing the attention of a man or two, before they dismissed the issue and conversations flowed once more.

Roselle swallowed heavily, her heart hammering as the tell-tale ding of the elevator's arrival had yet to come. Her eyes flickered around nervously, the hairs on the back of her neck rising as she felt eyes upon her. Like her sins were laid bare, as if someone knew what she had done!

"Come on! Come on! Come on!" Roselle hissed under her breath, the blasted elevator still yet to come, to her side she could see a man doing the same, dark eyes straying to his watch as tapped his foot impatiently.

"Traffic must be high tonight, because of this damn charity ball!" The man muttered, glancing over the woman beside him for ignoring her completely. She was beautiful, but she didn't look interested, he wasn't about to harass the poor woman.

Roselle breath hitched when something quickly disappeared around a corner, it looked like flowing black robes, and for a moment she wandered why it would terrify her!

"Miss, are you alright?" The man ventured, noting her odd behaviour all of a sudden. The woman had gone pale, her pupils blow wide as she stared at nothing behind the lobby corner. Was she on drugs maybe, she didn't put it past these high class women these days…she was one of the elite wasn't she? Dressed like that…

"Miss-"

"I'm fine! I just—did you see that? The robes I mean, black robes disappearing just right..." Roselle trailed off as the man stared at her strangely, hand reaching for his phone she could tell. He thought her on something, his gaze suspicious as he stepped back in a subtle movement.

"I—I have to go!" Roselle panicked yet again, her pulse beating in her ear as she turned swiftly on her heels and made towards the stairs. She didn't pay heed to the desperate calls of the man, the shadow of robes, strange flowing robes that looked like wispy tendrils painting across her mind.

A demon…was she going to hell for what she did! But she, she loved him! She did it because she loved him and he loved her! He loved her, she didn't care what others said; how they looked at her in pity he loved-

But if he did, why was he wrapped around that man. The man with pretty green eyes, who looked so ill… like he was poisoned, his skin flushed red.

It wasn't poison! It couldn't be! She was not responsible for the possible death of an innocent young man. A man who looked so close to Bruce…

But Bruce loved her rig—No, she shouldn't be thinking of that now! Not when the flight of stairs were harder to climb than ever before. Not when behind her silent footsteps followed, the air icy and her damn heels kept slipping. She tripped over her long white dress, her knees scraping against the unforgiving iron that were the emergency stairs. They creaked and groaned like they were about to collapse, she knew they weren't but…and those footsteps with no body…they sounded so close, and with the drag of fabric. Robes.

She didn't do anything wrong! They would fall, those tears, they were going to fall. Just a drop or two, the woman said…if he loved her, it would make him feel it tenfold, he would finally give in to his desires. That was all, she didn't really drug him, if it would only bring out his true desires for her! That man, that poor innocent man shouldn't have drunk Bruce's drink, that's why he got sick! He wouldn't die…he couldn't. Roselle hiccuped as she scrambled up, the heel of her shoes breaking off as she finally made it up the stairs, and to the floor that would lead to her temporary room.

She wasted no time, storming into her room, the door swinging fiercely on it hinges to collide against the wall. She didn't care, she had to get out of here! She couldn't let them know that she…but he would know! He would know because she gave him that drink! She stuffed her suitcase quickly, clothes hanging out haphazardly as she locked it, he hone grabbed from the nightstand before she turned to leave.

The glint of pink on the nightstand stopped her in her tracks for a moment. Her stupid mistake of a purchase. She didn't even think before grabbing in, and throwing it outside the open window of her room. She was gone before it could even fall to the floor, shattering in collage of crystals, and fine pixie dust, till it transitioned to a deep grey, useless.

"Taxi!" Roselle shouted, the breeze cold against her skin, the shadow lurking at the corner of the nearby alley spooking her. Just her imagination she tried to convince herself, even as her breath frosted over, and her fingers went numb.

"Taxi!" She shouted, relieved as the cab finally stopped before her, she flung her suitcase inside, lumbering in, with her dress trapped in the door as she closed it behind her.

"As far away from here as you can!" Roselle looked behind her anxiously, the shadow wasn't there!

"Mam?! You in some trouble or something?!"

"I said drive! I can pay! Anything, anything just please drive!" Roselle turned around swiftly, her eyes pleading as she looked into the man's eyes…no, it was a woman. The woman's eyes.

The woman nodded hesitantly before shifting the car into gear, the wheels crushing gravel ever so softly as they finally left. Roselle sighed in relief, slumping in her seat as she gently caressed her suitcase. Without a thought she looked back once more, her heart seizing as a large figure stood in the middle of the street, a chain dangling from his hand and behind them something monstrous draped in ropes, its decayed hands reaching out.

She cried out in shock, the cab lady sending her a suspicious look. Said lady looked in her rear-view mirror and saw nothing.

Drugs then, this woman was high on drugs.

She paid no heed to the sudden tears that fell from the woman's eyes, paid no heed to how terrified she had become, hand held against her mouth as if to keep in her sobs.

* * *

Harry winced as he shifted, his muscles stiff and his throat dry. A soft breeze caused in hair to flutter, and his body to shiver. He was still dressed in Bruce's white shirt, he could feel it. It wasn't soft, or even thin but…it smelt like the man. The first thing he had grabbed in his desperation after being stuck in a horrid cold shower. Lust, tearing at his senses and the one track thought of Bruce—Bruce—Bruce.

He had made a right fool of himself, but did he have a choice. He thought not, not with that damn potion coursing through his veins…and why hadn't Bruce been affected as much as him? Or maybe he was, he was just better at controlling himself than he would ever be able to. With a deep sigh Harry sat up, his exposed thigh bringing memories of Bruce's strong hand on his skin, so dangerously close. What had he gotten himself into? A relaxing trip to the muggle world to pursue his degree, maybe get a job too and be as frugal as his Parents and their parents before him. Instead he had landed in a war of his emotions, pushing away from something he wanted so desperately…because-

Bruce was out on the balcony, almost relaxed. His head rested against is folded hand, his elbow propped up and the armrest of the chair. Peaceful, he looked peaceful…even if his emotions seemed closed off, not a smile on his face. His hair blew lightly in the wind, one foot crossed over the other…his free hand still with that simple ring…family ring on his little finger.

"Lord Black?" He asked so suddenly, a brooding tone. So far removed from his usual teasing, and easy smirk. Harry knew this image was just a part of the man as his other persona. He also knew that he was not being accused of anything, just a simply query on the lovely morning where the sound of cars filled the space where birds should have chirped. Harry said nothing at first, just staring out at the image the man painted before clenching his pale hands in the white sheets. Why were they white anyway…a useless thought he realized as he had yet to answer the man.

Without fanfare he pulled the sheets round his shoulders and finally stood from his bed. The soft rug tickled his feet, made them itch as he walked to stand at the doorway of the balcony. A gush of wind caused the sheet to flutter, then billow behind him as his skin erupted in goose bumps. Why it was so cold — oh yes, winter—and why was Bruce so seemingly unaffected?

"It's like Mary Jauncey said. I am Lord Black, Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black…as loathe as I am to admit." Harry muttered, he could do with a good spot of tea he wagered, chamomile perhaps…or ginger.

Bruce spared him a curious glance, not that you would realize it before he simply hummed in acceptance his fingers tapping idly on the arm rest, his cheek still pressed against his folded hand. There was an unasked question there, again not accusing but Harry saw it. When had it become so easy…well no, those were the wrong words, it was never easy reading Bruce. But, for a man he claimed he did not know, he could find himself quickly reading between the lines.

"I'm from old money…wizarding old money, the elite life as I much as I don't care for it, isn't something new. You might be wondering why I didn't just finance my own way here." Harry began. Stepping forward to stand almost behind Bruce, he was sure the man was very much aware of his movement, even if he didn't turn to acknowledge him.

"I wondered, but it's not something I see important. It's not as important as the topic I know you are avoiding, will you pretend last night did not happen too?" Bruce glared out at the scenery, brown eyes dark with so much suppressed emotions, his baritone deep and biting into Harry's kin for the now very much accusation that laid there.

Circles…they were always moving in circles. A great white locked on the scent of blood and a rabbit stuck in the centre of that circle, ever fighting, even as the raft it floated on began to tip within the ocean.

"There is a law now, after our wizarding war. It's tied loosely to the statute of secrecy, a means of control by the hands of the Ministry-"

"Harry." Bruce interrupted lowly, but Harry continued as if the man hadn't said a word, green eyes trained on things neither could see.

"-Wizarding currency can no longer be converted to muggle. It punishable by imprisonment in azkaban even. And so, I joined this program to-"

"Harry!" Bruce growled, lightning fast hands locking unto his wrist—when had he even rested his hand so close to Bruce—as the man glared into his own eyes.

"You're pushing me Bruce! Stop pushing me!" Harry glared, angry now because damn it he would never get a break. This shark was out for rabbit's blood and every turn he made he couldn't escape, he wouldn't let him.

He should hate the man for it…yet-

"I need time. It's not as easy as you make it out to look. It's not easy knowing that I—that—you…"

"What are you saying Harry, tell me exactly what you are saying and let this be done." Bruce's words were measured, his grip tight…but never hurting. He was a force of nature, a force that Harry did not want to face, not now.

"Giving up already, Bruce" Harry gave an almost bitter smirk, he didn't understand the sudden bout of disappointment and the-

"Like hell I am, but at the same time I realize there is this one wall I can't seem to cross. Despite my efforts…that wall came down last night. If only for a second, you can't lie to me Harry…your eyes always give you away." Bruce muttered, hand falling away from Harry's skin before he sighed, eyes closed as he leaned his head back. Harry bit his lip, fingers hovering over Bruce's face, as if to touch those lips that swept him away more than once. He didn't touch, just let his hand fall listlessly at his side. It was an action, even with Bruce's eyes closed that brought somewhat of a bitter smile, a touch of sadness and wariness.

"MACUSA was here this morning, they are hunting down Roselle. It's something I would rather do myself but new allies and all that jazz." Bruce muttered, not flinching as Harry's hand rested close to his face, almost brushing the dark strands of his hair.

"That potion, it's a lust potion yes…but it only heightens the desire for the one you already care for, the one you see most fit to—you called my name over and over. Desperately even…so what are you saying?"

The silence was loud then, the wisp of breeze, and the chatter balconies bellow spelling nothing to break the sudden stillness between them. A tension perhaps…that neither one was willing to break themselves. That he wasn't willing to break…at least until those words escaped his lips.

"I'm leaving, Bruce." The man stilled at his soft whisper, eyes opened as he clenched his fist as he suppressed his initial response.

"Just for a little while, I—the medication that my aunt is taking is for cancer, she never told me and now…I don't want to use this excuse but I need air." Harry finished, his own hands clenched tight at Bruce's continued silence.

"Let you go. You want me to let you go when I have never had you to begin with." Bruce concluded, suddenly feeling empty…dead.

"Do you still love him?" The question was simple, but Harry's heart lunged at the thought. A painful thump in his chest because what was the answer to that.

"Perhaps I do not know love." Harry whispered, pushing locks of curly hair behind his hair, as the wind blew. It had gotten longer, at his shoulders now, he hadn't a haircut for so long now. Menial thoughts to push this situation in the background where he wanted it to stay.

"Yes, perhaps." Without turning to face Harry, Bruce placed his hand over the slender one. Cold again, Harry was so prone to shivers, his skin always so cool.

"Come back. You come back, because we're not done here. Not when we have never started." Harry squeezed his hand in response, a silent confirmation…the question now remained, what will his truth reveal when he should journey to England once more?

* * *

The mood was an odd one in Wayne Manor…at least after the two had returned from their extended trip. There was a tenseness that no one could cut through, Bruce remained distant for the most part, either in his study or down in the cave. That is if Harry was not down there himself still learning from Alfred as he had always done.

The boys noticed it too, sparing each other curious glances when Harry seemingly walked around constantly lost in thought. No one was talking, no one gave answers…not even the ever knowing Alfred who frowned in obvious displeasure, a strange sadness in his aged blue eyes. The man had begun to rely on his cane, the colder air playing havoc on his aching joints and muscles, a situation made worse by his refusal to sit down and rest.

"Come, charity case. We have somewhere to go right now!" Damian demanded, pulling a protesting Tim from the sofa as the credits of the show he was watching began to roll down the large screen. The grandfather clock in the living room an echoing tick-tock filled with so much depth as the sound traveled to neighboring rooms. 12' 0 clock it read, already midnight for how long the two spent watching TV on the weekend. It was Friday after all. The clock made a sound as if something had broken off within it, a strange clatter…the usual noise of an ancient clock that not even their father dared to remove.

"Where are we going?" Tim hissed, annoyed at being dragged up the stairs like a dog on a leash by the brat. Like the dog he knew the brat wanted , that he was already making plans with Dick and their dad to purchase for him.

"Just shut up and come! It's bed time!"

"You mean your bedtime!" Tim snorted, his amusement fading as they stopped a little ways away from the doors that had been closed to them for some time. It was Harry's room, and their father stood silently before them, hand raised as if to knock, before he brushed a frustrated hand to his hair and thought better of it. He silently left then, making his way to his own rooms instead…and for a moment Tim couldn't help but wonder what was really going on.

Damian didn't say a word, just insistently pulling as they made their way to the door, a slight hesitation he pushed open the doors. The lock unlatched with a soft sound, a sound that would go unheard by the gentle chorus of rain that had begun not too long after they had left the living room. The door creaked open, not that Damian cared as he pulled Tim in.

Harry was a lump under the many blankets Alfred had brought for him, the fire almost gone from the fireplace, wood reduce to mere ash and tiny gold embers, orange too. Damian let go of his hand then, crawling unto the bed, only to bury himself under the blankets, curled around Harry. The man hadn't even shifted, just a small sigh at the disturbance. Tim…he had never done this before, he even snorted at Damian when he would sneak into Harry's bed like some little kid. Yet…now, with things getting so confusing, it was something he himself guiltily wanted.

He felt that perhaps they were going to lose Harry, for whatever reason or the other. It was ridiculous, adults fought, it was obvious something happened between their father and him, but was it enough for the man to leave…to leave them behind.

Swallowing lightly, Tim crawled onto Harry's other side, lightly pushing away the blankets and freezing when Harry turned on his back. Nothing else happened after that, Damian shuffling closer, that he was neatly cradled in Harry's side. Without thought he did the same, surprised by how comfortable it felt, the warm smell of chocolate almost instantly lulling him in a strange sense of calm. He could understand why Damian did this so often.

"You're leaving." Damian muttered, Tim wondering what the kid was talking about until he felt Harry shift.

"Damian-" Harry began but was interrupted by Damian's angered voice, his hands clenching tight to the soft cotton of Harry's shirt.

"You're leaving us behind like some coward!"

"Wha—what are you talking about?! What is he talking about?" Tim voiced, confused and strangely panicked as he gripped onto Harry's shirt. Flashes of his mother leaving him, his father dying he—

Harry wasn't leaving too was he?! Not after he had gotten so close, not when he started seeing him as the-

"You're not leaving are you?" Tim looked up desperately, something tearing inside when green eyes finally opened and held no true reassurance.

"Is it dad?"

"What did I do!" both boy's spoke over the other, desperate even if they tried to hide it. Harry couldn't help, he held them close, even when Damian fought his hold, feeling as if he was being rejected, even as Tim stiffened and wouldn't say a word.

"It's not either of those things. I just have to—I'm coming back you know. I'm coming back." Harry tried to reassure them, but his tone sounded dead to even himself.

"Father doesn't think so. It's in the way he looks at you…" Damian spoke softly, he would not admit that tears fell down his cheek. He would not admit that the thought of Harry abandoning him like his very own mother didn't sting.

Harry held them tight, not saying a word as the rain seemingly grew louder with the heavier showers, and the last embers of the fire went out ever so quietly.

"Come back. You have to…you have to because you haven't met Dick yet and-" Tim began, but stopped, burying his face in the man's shirt, so similar to Damian across from him.

"I'll come back." Harry whispered, but how much truth was in his words…he himself did not know.

* * *

_Dear Harry,_

_I'm sorry. I don't even know what I'm apologizing for but…_

_Maybe this is the right thing…at least for now._

_Just get that closure and be done with it, everything will be clear after._

_I'll pick you up at the airport…I at least know that much about muggles, and I can even drive the weird contraptions now!_

_Your Aunt, she's in the hospital…I'll take you right to her and Harry…_

_Akecheta wishes to see you again…he says your dreams are disturbed on the wind._

_Harry…everything will be alright._

_You'll see._

_Neville Longbottom_

_Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Longbottom_


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Young Justice**

* * *

He felt like this…this was a mistake. That he would regret making this decision, regret leaving them behind because he was so broken no matter how much he tried. Harry Potter was always broken, something was always wrong with him because he could never stop thinking for a second…because he didn't let things go. Hoarding memories, more bad than good as if he received some sick pleasure for it, and then hurt those around him so selfishly because he just couldn't-

He could still see their faces, they wouldn't admit it to him but they felt betrayed…and he couldn't even grudge them the thought. He had walked into their world and inserted himself like an annoying virus you couldn't quite escape. Only to then uproot himself, and fade away as if a ghost, leaving them cold with only useless half smiles that would never quite reach his face, that could never reassure a fly much less two young boys…still very much children.

Damian hadn't seen him off, he had glared at him. Ignored him for the most part as he silently packed his bags…glared at Tim, when said boy dared to help his hands trembling.

He couldn't forget how he stood there at his window, partially hidden the thick drapes, a small hand pressed against the glass as he looked down on them. They were at the doorway, his suitcase in hand, Tim not a smile on his face as he just stood there, watching as Alfred passed with a set of keys in his hand and a coat in the other. Of course Bruce wasn't there, he didn't see anyone off Alfred would tell him on their journey, would say it was the same when Dick…his oldest son had left to pursue his own path in another city.

It wasn't the same he had wanted to say to Alfred, because at least it was a sure thing Dick would return home now and again before he sought free flight once more. With him…he didn't even know what he was doing, even if the truth was already hammering in his heart…a blood abyss he couldn't seem to crawl out of.

Harry grunted in surprise as a man rudely pushed pass him, the sting of the impact dulling as the airport seemingly came alive around him. He had been so lost in thought it was as if everything had become muted. Muffled voices were loud, laced with the accent he had just truly realized they had, having been around Americans for so long. It was flowy and light, yet did nothing to soothe the dark cloud looming over his head. Suitcases rattled and fell, the wheels of his own a terrible clunk as he moved down the crowded halls.

Children were happy, zooming past on their makeshift carts, their amused parents lightly chasing after them, but not too concerned with their passports in hand. Beeps and rings, and murky grey skies, the scent of many tea shops and freshly toasted croissants filled his senses and perhaps fish and chips.

"Harry! Harry over here!" Green eyes startled before a slight smile crossed his face, Neville the loveable goof he was at times jumping in spot with his jacket crooked, his herbology gloves peaking outside his open pockets. A light dusting of stubble decorated his jaw, probably going for the roguish look, a curious young woman standing nervously behind him.

"Neville!" he called out, the only moment he felt any spark of true joy as he run lightly through the crowd to get at his friend. Coming closer he could see that the woman was Hannah Abbott, her blonde hair used to be parted in pigtails at Hogwarts, neatly twisted in a braided bun atop her head.

"And Hannah." Harry smiled lightly as soon as he reached the two, his hand held out to the obviously nervous woman. Her eyes flickered to Neville for a second, before she seemingly snapped out of her state and straightened her back, the nervous gone for the time being.

"Harr—I mean—Potter, I…" She blushed at her slip and constant blubbering, she was making a fool of herself she could quite tell, and Neville the damnable handsome man, stood back in amusement not one lick of aid for her plight.

"I think Harry will do, it's not like we're in Hogwarts and you still wore those Potter stinks badges" Harry was not apologetic, greatly amused by how much the woman squirmed under his gaze, thinking that he would be so petty as to hold childish days against her.

Hannah flushed even more in embarrassment, stepping back slightly, only to stop when Neville placed a gentle hand on her waist, a reassuring smile in place. Harry watched the two for a moment, and if only a second something bitter crawled in his throat, before he ruthlessly pushed it back. He was being ridiculous, was he so horrible that because he himself, hurt he would see his close friend hurt just as much?

"Come on, Harry! Stop making her uncomfortable, you always do this you know." Neville lightly punched him in the shoulder, Harry managing a sheepish grin before he took Hannah's hand in a firm shake.

"I couldn't help myself you see. It's not every day Neville brings around a pretty girl. The last one looked like troll, but don't tell him I said that!" Harry leaned over, mock whisper especially loud so Neville would hear.

Hannah laughed lightly at the veiled compliment, feeling at ease now as she watched Neville protest his friend antics. Like this he didn't look so sad, yet equal parts intimidating as he did from a far. He seemed like any other person, not the man that had taken down You-Know-Who, not the man that had married Blaise Zabini, one of the most influential and cold purebloods out there. Not the same man who many looked on with awe for being brave enough to divorce said pureblood and then simply leaving to only Merlin knows where.

"Harry…she's waiting." Neville spoke up after they had reached a calm, the fleeting joy they had once had so quickly fading. Harry didn't say anything at first, green eyes staring into his brown, as if asking something but…like so many times he knew not what was asked or even how to answer. This was where he would fall short when it came to his friend, he could understand him only so much…Hermione was the only other that had seen right through the then boy, now man.

With a sigh Harry tucked a strand of curly hair behind his ear again, bangs falling into his face—right, he had left his clip with Damian—before he tightened his hand around the handle of his suitcase.

"Alright then." And with hat he walked ahead of the two, even if he did not know where there transport was, or if Neville would truly drive, not when Hannah a half blood, knowing of the muggle world could drive the, herself. The wheels clattered once more, an echoing sound that fade among the orchestra the airport had become. Each presence playing its part and doing what it must for the running of the place that never slept. He did not fight it when so suddenly Neville gently pulled his suitcase from his grip, did not fight it when Hannah hesitantly placed her hand in his. Outside horns blew and the space was loud, the air thick and cold in one breath and one touch.

He didn't fight it…because what little comfort that was given, would be all he would get as he searched for the reason to return to little Damian and hesitant Tim…his reason to return to Bruce and then—and then…

* * *

She hadn't seen it coming! Lord knows she didn't, she thought she had gotten far enough! She was outside of Gotham, her friend Stacey had assured her she would be safe! She barely kept in the blood curdling scream she wanted to let loose as her chest threatened to explode before her very eyes, furious thumps that hurt more than the burn of hard wood under her feet. She screamed as she lost her footing, splintered wood tearing into her skin as she rolled down the rickety steps of the old barn house she had his herself in.

She could feel it, pin pricks and the burn of little open wounds that sluggishly bled, but she didn't care. She had to get out! She had to. Behind her something terrifying roared; screeched or both—she didn't know what-she didn't know how! She couldn't see it, the thing chasing her, the thing that had been chasing her from her escape from that hotel!

She scrambled on her feet, tumbling for just a second as her feet licked up, her ankles hurt and her dresses itched and the exposed chips that were the damnable stairs! It was always stairs.

Upstairs a window banged shut, a gush of wind-something fast!—a shadow a robe—she didn't know. She cried out, tears streaming down her face as she scrambled up, running to the doors that would see her escape, her freedom. It slammed shut, the lock wouldn't budge and behind her some serpent hissed.

"No! No-No-please!" She screamed, banging against the off-white doors, the paint stripping and sticking to her skin, itching as sweat slicked as she was.

"No!" She screamed again, blood rushing to her ears, like a terrible tide that wouldn't let her be, her skin hot. She abandoned the door, turning sharply around the corner—a kitchen!—she could go out the kitchen doors. They would lead her to the woods but who cared, she would be free from the tricks her mind played on her.

The doors banged open, swinging furiously on their hinges as she made her escape, mud sliding between her bare toes as she sprinted to the woods, she just had to reach the woods and—!

Something fluttered above her, glide of cloth and the sound of tensile wires, the thing they called grappling hooks shooting off. She sobbed, high pitched sounds as she could barely breathe, blind as branches tore into her skin and the air just kept on getting colder.

"!" Strong hands grabbed her, a grip that beg to see her arms fall off, that begged to keep her captive as se thrashed a railed against her attacker.

"Let me go!" She screamed, blind to it all.

"You will do well to stay still!" That voice, gravely and unlike anything she had ever heard before. The haunting rumours that spread within the crevices of Gotham, her saviour perhaps? Her saviour, she would escape, he would save her from the monsters she couldn't see, the man that haunted her steps with flowing robes and rattling chains.

"Batman! I—is it you? Please…is it..?" Roselle looked up desperately, a cowl that covered the face of this looming man, this _thing_. The vigilante that so many spoke of as a criminal himself, a figure she had turned her nose at. Disgusted she was that a man like him would get recognition for deeds in the night, while Bruce Wayne's name would be smeared in the media to meet the sheep's fancy. Not that they survived long enough to reap their just rewards, no one escaped Bruce Wayne's retribution.

"Thank god!" she gasped, her voice hoarse as the woods became eerily silent, the sounds of crickets once loud non-existent. As if they were afraid, very afraid.

"Roselle Allen, perhaps you should have thought of this before you drugged Bruce Wayne…"

"Wha—?!" Roselle's eyes widening in fright, the man's hands now feeling like shackles around her arms as she pulled away in confusion and growing dread.

Why was Batman so far away from Gotham? Why was he even here when she was being hunted by—?!

"There are consequences for your actions, you could have hurt someone he truly cares for!" Batman growled, he seemed menacing them, the backdrop of crows—where did they come from?!—suddenly taking flight with frighten caws.

Roselle finally let it out. That blood curdling scream that had sat on the edge of that precipice waiting to tumble to its untimely demise. She fought with all she had as lightning fast a terrifying cold chain wrapped around her neck and pulled her taut. She skidded across the dirt ground , rocks and twigs flying as she tried to brace herself, suddenly paralysed as something frigid cold held her in place, an icy breath close to her lips.

"In America…Magical America, administering of a lust potion or love, without consent and with ill intent, higher than a level two is punishable by imprisonment in Alcatraz…but for you lowly No—Maj, perhaps the kiss will do." An airy voice drawled as footsteps grew louder and the image of some strange skeletal creature, grotesque and rancid flickered before her eyes.

"Must you do that? She's still just a girl, a foolish one but still—" Batman stepped forward, unafraid as he studied that creature that leered over the woman's terrified body. It was subdued by a chain around its neck, the same extension that wrapped around Roselle's own.

The wizard reveal himself, the same robes as Mary Jauncey. An auror then, sent to hunt down a criminal in the eyes of the Wizards, for she had—

"She attacked one of our own. He may be British, but he is one of us… _No-Maj_." It was said with scorn, as the man's face was revealed, black eyes staring into the cowl covered face of a Bruce, the Batman. The man had sharp features, lanky with pale skin that one would think him vampire, and hair black as a starless night.

"She was unaware of the contents." Let it not be said that even when wronged, Batman was not morally sound and just.

"Was she now?" It was mockery, the wizard peering down at the terrified woman. She whimpered and from the rank smell perhaps she had wet herself, it was no deterrent to the dementor who tried to get closer, almost fascinated as her red lips began to turn blue.

"She still drugged you…still drugged _him_. Do you protest her just judgment No-Maj that is the man of bat?" The wizard hissed, the dementor responding alongside the auror. Batman didn't twitch, not even when so suddenly Flash appeared beside him, eyes widening at the sight.

"Batman wha—?!"

"I ask she be given a fair trial, she's not one of you." Batman glared, eyes narrowed as the wizard bowed in mockery, hands tightening around the chain as he pulled the dementor away, said creature hissing and swiping at the fool of a wizard that would dare chain it!

"Perhaps it is not a lost that they seek…no they have secured an alliance with you after all, man of bat. When he returns to you, tell him Craven wishes him happiness…yes, he wishes him happiness after all." The wizard spoke strangely, a portal suddenly opening as he dragged the now audible screaming Roselle through, the woman scared for her life reaching out for a man who would not heed her call.

"You mind telling me what that was about?" Flash asked confused, still staring at the spot where a man and that weird creature had stood and a screaming woman battered and bruised.

"It's nothing, come we still have a ways to go." Batman was already making his way through the forest, he felt no fulfilment at the thought of Roselle being dragged off to Alcatraz, not because he felt pity for her, but because-

"So you just let him leave…I wouldn't think you capable of it." Flash spoke softly, in step with the man who remained silent for their entire trip, even when he had suddenly disappeared and came to this strange barn house.

"Bruce!"

"He's been gone a month, there is nothing to talk about."

"One month isn't that long, you can't possibly be giving—"

"Far from it, but it's like he said, I was pushing him. Corner even the tiniest Rabbit and they lash out. Bunny has more than claws on him." It was odd seeing that strange smirk tainted with so much longing when the man was in the guise of the Batman. It was enough for Flash to pause and truly stare at the man…could Bruce Wayne…the Batman, actually be in love?

"I want to meet him, when he comes back I mean. I want to meet your bunny that fights you every step of the way, if it is even to kick you in your balls." Flash grinned, flinging his arm around the man's shoulder, and getting an unimpressed stare for his efforts.

* * *

"You should have told me." Harry muttered, eyes trained on his hands as he twisted them almost anxiously in the hospital room. Around him machines beeped rhythmically, the ac unit humming low, obviously of age as it sputtered lightly before going almost silent one more. It shouldn't have been possible for him to hear even the slight drip of medication in the IV line attached to a drip bag, but even that he heard. He hated places like this, hospitals or medical bays, whatever they were called…he had had enough of it in his time at Hogwarts and then times more when he was midst the heights of war.

"It didn't seem important. I didn't want you to worry or-" Petunia began softly, her voice an almost crack as she moistened her cracked lips. She looked so fragile and so happy. How could she be happy when—

"Don't. Give. Me. That!" Harry almost hissed, glaring at the woman, heated words ready to leave his lips when he faltered in light of her ever fond gaze.

"Precious boy. You care so much about other that is hurts. It hurts you and you don't even realize." Petunia reached out hesitantly, caressing the soft skin of Harry's cheek. He didn't move away, just placed his hand over hers, they were as cool as his own…what a pair they always seemed to make.

"We're not talking about him, Aunt Petunia?"

"Talking about who? There lies your problem, did you speak to A—"

"I spoke to him." Harry quickly cut her off, flashes of his meeting with Akecheta vivid, the same medicine man that had given him his dream catcher tattoo.

"Good then, you'll be ready soon." Petunia sighed, closing her eyes for a second as she squeezed her nephew's hand. She had never wanted him to find out, she had gone as for the mislead him with an easily treated disease just to placate him and throw off suspicion. Diphtheria didn't cause your hair to thin, or for you to vomit blood…it did not make one as weak as she was now.

"Aunt Petunia, you lied to me." Harry was careful not to show his anger, she didn't need that right now…yet he needed answers too.

"Five years. I have had cancer for five years Harry. I have five more yet to come and five more after. If I do the surgery, I stand to live cancer free…you won't get rid of me so easily, love." Petunia whispered, a bout of tiredness overcoming her as the medicine kicked in.

"Don't waste your chance Harry. Tie up those loose ends will you, your Bruce deserves that much doesn't he?

"He's not my Bruce." Harry muttered almost like a child, unwilling to look into Petunia's eyes as he stared out the window.

"You tell yourself that, when you're back on that plane to join the family you left behind, love." Petunia smirked lightly, finally losing her eyes to get some much needed sleep.

* * *

_"_ _Ah, so the tormented one decides to heed my call after all. You have avoided me many a times when I requested your company." Akecheta's voice was gruff and aged as he smoked his beautifully carved wooden pipe. He didn't look much of a medicine man, even if he was in Europe of all places. He stopped his thoughts in their tracks though, mindful that in as sense he was being judgmental, basing facts upon assumptions and self-imposed expectations. The man cast him a sideway glance, almost as if he knew what he was thinking, and was greatly amused by it._

_"_ _You said my dreams were disturbed on the winds." Harry supplied as an answer, sitting beside the man on a wooden log. This was their regular meeting place, the Forest of Dean, where so many memories of he and Hermione on the run haunted him. If he listened close enough he could almost hear their desperate breaths, and tired legs. How they stumbled after each other covered in snow, their wands gripped tight in their hands._

_"_ _It bleeds not because my magic is weak, it bleeds because you allow it to. You hold on too tight to things long gone, a past that haunts because you let it haunt." Akecheta intoned, a ring of smoke escaping his lips to float about them and then carried away by the wind._

_"_ _It's hard. Letting go isn't something I've ever learned to do." Harry muttered to himself, his knees pulled up to his chest as he lost himself in thought."_

_"_ _You run from your dreams because you do not understand. You know not how to live. It is as the spirit dance in the wind and the heart flows like Great River. If not for the leap of fate… all you know and equally not know, shall be lost."_

_"_ _What if I don't want to leap, what if I'm too afraid." Harry looked over at Akecheta. His hair was a strange silvery grey, loose and bone straight, resting at the middle of his back. He was dressed in regular trousers with suspenders even, his shirt a plane grey._

_"_ _Harry Potter afraid? Afraid of what the wolf would howl…you confuse him, for you know it is lies that spill from blood stained lips."_

_Silence consumed them in that moment, Harry accepting the chastisement for what it was._

_"_ _Take this chance?" Harry queried again, hesitant. It was time after all wasn't it?_

_"_ _And let us dream…cut your string Harry Potter. It festers, more so because it will not let you go…you hold on too tight. Hold on too tight when it is the Great White that is your home."_

Harry snapped out of his thoughts by the angry wails of little babe. He knew not how long he had been standing there, in the receiving room of a manor he had once lived. Nothing had changed he realized, wizarding portraits still glared down at him, their noses turned up…other's just curious, and that one man at the end smiling at him, his hat tilted in greeting.

Arsitide Zabini, the original Lord Zabini until his strange and untimely death. A pleasant man according to so many old articles and pureblood history books. Hard and cold at times but loyal to a fault, and very much aware of his place in the world…their world. Far be it for any wizard to be associated with muggles…a reason Harry found it so odd that the portrait had taken a liking to him, he…a half blood.

The baby's wails grew closer, and Harry swiftly turned around almost expecting Mrs. Zabini to stand proud behind him. The second spouse, now only spouse…at least until she was no longer of use. It wasn't her though, it was a house elf. The poor thing looked stressed and raged, the bawling baby unwilling to be placated as the elf bounced…him—it was a baby boy—awkwardly.

"Nina be sorry little master. Nina doesn't means to make you cry. Nina bad elf! Bad elf!" Nina wailed herself, large bulbous eyes tearing up as she stared at Harry.

"Master Harry! Please little lord won't stop crying! And mistress she be gones with her other giggly women!" Nina pleaded, arms stretched out for Harry to take the child. He stepped back at first, eyes trained on a child who could have been his, his mocha skin and straight black hair. Those teary light green eyes, too light to ever be like his…not a solid match like Damian's own to his.

"I'm not your master any more Nina." Harry frowned, something tearing inside when those light green eyes looked at him, little arms reaching out. He couldn't help it, it was as if the child accused him, asking him why he would make him suffer like this.

"Give him here, Nina." Harry strengthened his resolve, the elf scrambling to pass over the screaming child. Almost on instinct the child was cuddled up to him, still wailing but softer now as his little hands tightened in his shirt. Making soft shushing noises, Harry carefully calmed the child, rubbing his back as he seemingly buried his head in the crook of Harry's neck.

"A bottle, Nina." Harry ordered the eager elf, taking a seat on the chair that sat before the fire place. Without thought he was feeding the baby, the little thing cooing around the bottle anytime he could, patting at Harry's face.

"Aren't you a charming boy?" Harry whispered with a smile, gently brushing dark hair from the baby's face.

"You're a natural." Harry almost froze at the sudden deep voice, how easily he had forgotten himself in light of a wanting child. Said child gave a gummy little smile, milk bubbling at the side of his mouth as he poked at Harry's cheek. Nina stood nervously, her hand twisting in the dirty pillow case she forever wore.

"Zabini." Harry intoned, looking up at the man that was a part of the strife his mind had become. The string that needed to be cut so desperately.

"You finally came to your senses then, you've returned to accept—"

"I didn't come back for you." Harry glared, Nina relieving him of the now empty bottle as he moved to burp the child.

"Then why did you come?" Blaise frowned, standing before Harry. He looked different, even lovelier than he was before. His skin was still pale and his hair a curly mess…a curly mess that now reached his shoulders, framing his face perfectly with unruly bangs. Ah, Ginevra's clip was gone…he was so attached to it, for him to part ways with it was…odd to say the least.

"Closure…answers; to cut a string." Harry muttered, smiling when the baby suddenly began to giggle.

"Where's his mother, Blaise?"

"He's with his mother." At that Harry frowned, he looked at the child once more and for the first time he truly wondered what the hell was really keeping him here. What held him hostage that he couldn't even give into a man that he lo—he loved Bruce.

Bloody hell, he loved Bruce!

"Harry, stop playing the fool! You are mine and we both know—"

"I'm not yours! I've never been yours! I can't believe I risked so much for one messily realization miles across the world!" Harry spoke angrily, standing up so sudden that Blaise stumbled back.

"What? Risk what…risk—who are seeing?" Blaise suddenly became angry, glare fierce as he watched spellbinding green eyes glow with some new light he just hated! Hated because that light had never been there when the wizard with him, when they married when they…

"I get it now! I wanted you so much, because I never thought I could never find someone I could truly love. I wanted a family and then you denied me that right!"

"I denied you nothing! Taking the potion would have given you what you wanted! Staying with me even when I took another wife, would let you raise that child you hold so dearly in your arms!" Blaise shouted, startling his son who began to cry once more.

"You would see me destroy the very making of my soul to have it your way, Blaise!" Harry shouted back, unconsciously hushing the child in his arms.

"Cut the melodramatics, Harry! You knew who you married when we took our vows in the old ways under that decrepit old tree!" Blaise snarled, the portraits above them watching the two like any old tennis match.

"Yes, I did… and now I'm here to cut our string…your string." Harry laughed lightly. The action caught Blaise off guard, he didn't know what to do in light of that. In light of this Harry that was so different, yet not…was that how one looked when truly in love. Yes, because that was how he was when Harry was in his life…he loved him, and probably would love no other after him. Mother magic was cruel he could now see. He hardly noticed when Harry gently placed his son in his arms, caressing the child's hair one last time before stepping away.

"Good-bye, Blaise Zabini. I wish you well." With that Harry made his way to the fireplace, ready to leave and go where he had always belonged.

"His name is Giovanni Harrison Zabini" he muttered, almost as if that alone from his lips would stop Harry. Would let him stay like he wanted so very much.

"I guess…you better change that then. Goodbye." Harry smiled sadly before he vanished in beautiful green flames.

"Foolish boy, if only you had listened to me," The portrait of Arsitide muttered gruffly before leaving his portrait like he so often did.

"If only…" Blaise muttered, left to his own devices, a child that cooed happily at him and his birth mother nowhere to be seen, like she always had been.

* * *

The Manor was strangely quiet, not that it had ever been noisy but, it was still an odd atmosphere. His walking stick tapped gently as he made his way down the stairs, noting to himself that both Damian and Tim were out. Damian on a mission of his own, grudgingly accepting the help of 'The team' on the request of his father. It had been amusing how he had strapped in his sword, even knowing that the weapon wasn't one truly accepted by Bruce. Damian though, he would always be Damian. Even after two months he could still be found curled up in Harry's bed, his new dog Ace standing guard on his personal mat that Damian had moved in.

He claimed that he didn't care that Harry was gone, that he hated him even…yet, he held on tight to that red clip so often, and stared outside as if expecting the wizard to suddenly appear. Tim…he handled Harry's absence differently, he was convinced the wizard would return because he gave his word…Harry always kept his word he would smile. Though the smile was a painful one, not easily erased even as he spoke to Dick day and night once the young man was available. He was out with the young teen called Cassandra Sandsmark…an odd one if he had seen any other. The protégé to Wonderwoman; Bruce had only raised an eyebrow at the development before moving on his way…once Tim wasn't getting in over his head at the good age of thirteen he could do what he wanted. He trusted him that much.

Alfred, winced at the pain in his knee that seemingly travelled up to his neck. He should truly invest in a solid vacation…a permanent one perhaps, but with Harry gone—

"You know Alfred…you shouldn't be pushing yourself so hard." Alfred would not admit that he almost tripped over his cane, or that he had gasped in shock at the sudden, _familiar_ voice.

"Ah, young Harry. You should have informed me of your arrival. I would have brewed a spot of tea…ginger, your favourite still I presume." Alfred drawled, acting as if nothing was out of place. Even with Harry casually sitting before a table, suturing a fake cadaver with glasses he didn't often wear perched in his nose, and the desk lamp turned on medium.

"I thought I would have forgotten how to do it, but…it seems you were a good teacher, Alfred." Harry was amused, knowing that he had shaken up the butler. He had gotten permission from MACUSA to apparate within their jurisdiction. As soon as he was off his flight, he wasted no time apparating, ending up in the Batcave of all places. He guessed it was for the best, he wanted to avoid the situation just little bit longer…or rather he wanted to see Bruce before everything was said and done. He had been lucky until Alfred entered, the strange beeping radar on the obscenely wide monitoring system informing him that Bruce…at least he hoped it was, would return in another five minutes.

"Your room is as it was…if you are so inclined that is." Alfred fished for information, not willing to be obvious about it, but this was Harry. He had his moments were he was not overtaken by an oblivious nature. He only smiled at Alfred, continuing to place his sutures the right spaces apart. Not too close…not too far.

Alfred uncharacteristically sighed, leaning his cane against the table as he took a seat beside the wizard. He quietly began to slow process of suturing, a strange peace settling between them.

"It wasn't by chance that I chose you. I must confess that I had ulterior motives for you—"

"A love match, I know. I think I figured it out quite easily at some point, but things had started moving so fast that it didn't even matter in the end." Harry whispered, pushing his hair out of his face, before adjusting his glasses.

"Will you…are you here to stay Harry? The boys…they miss you, all of them." Harry remained silent, a strange smile on his face and in the background the powerful hum of an engine filled the cave.

"He's here." Was the only words out of his mouth, Alfred smiling lightly himself before giving Harry's hand a light squeeze.

"Very well then, I will see you in the morning, Harry" With that the butler made his way slowly out of the cave, his cane tapping lightly against the hard floor.

* * *

Bruce sighed as he pulled his cowl down, gloved hands clenching the steering wheel of the vehicle before he seemingly slumped into the leather seat. He wasn't particularly tired, but his muscles ached…that annoying twinge he couldn't quite ignore. As of late he had seen more and more MACUSA aurors, he could tell then that an official alliance would be drawn up soon…the red tape he could never pass would be easy to cross once he was finally in.

It couldn't have been possible without…it couldn't have been possible without Bunny. It was pathetic, but he missed the lingering scent of chocolate, the fiery glare and the way his nose twitched slightly when he was angry. He hadn't just pulled the name out of nowhere; after all, add a little puff tail and the image would have been complete. He couldn't help the snort that left his lips, before he opened the door, said doors releasing a light hiss.

It had been two months at any rate…it looked like he would have to wait even longer…or drag Harry back himself…for all their sakes.

"I know what you're thinking, and I told you not to push, Bruce." Bruce swiftly looked up top, where the medical bay was, the white light bright as Harry worked on…sutures?

Wait…Harry?

"I'm not a ghost if that's what you're thinking." Harry snorted without looking back, aware of the measured steps that echoed as Bruce climbed the stairs—never in a rush, or too eager—to get to him.

"You came back." It wasn't a question, just a statement, which held everything and nothing at the same time. Harry now understood the tension that would so easily leave his shoulders at that deep voice, always so deep and dark like freshly melted chocolate. Or warm like a soaking bath, one would collapse in at the end of the day. It was the same voice that could incite so much anger in him because they spoke the truth and laid his faults out for all to see, pushed him to be who he was and accept that what he felt wouldn't ever go away.

"I…I needed space and you gave it to me. Now it's only fair that I answer the question that's on the tip of your tongue." Harry finally turned to face Bruce, brown gaze heavy and giving him no easy way out. Face expressionless, and closed off, as he stood there as tall as the unshakeable tower that he was. If he were any other he would feel insignificant in a presence like this, perhaps when he was younger…but now, even though he would act the child sometimes…he had grown into his own long ago.

"And you would know the very thought that I think? Awfully presumptuous of you." It would be like that then, no give. Bruce wasn't going to help him fight this battle, he would stand there and watch…and perhaps it was for the best. The man had fought enough, it was his turn to show that all of this, all of what they went through and put Bruce through wasn't a waste.

"I have…feelings for you. I pushed you away even knowing I had feeling for you because I—I—I was so bloody scared! I didn't know what to do Bruce, and you can say that I could have let you in but that was too easy for Harry bloody Potter!" Harry spoke, angry with himself all of a sudden. He stepped back when it seemed like Bruce was going to reach out to him, he probably shouldn't have, but damn it if Bruce touched him he knew what would happen. He would clam and let this all stew inside…fester. He would destroy this before it ever began if he didn't just—

"I've never—I-What the hell was I supposed to do when faced with the Merlin forsaken fact that I was damn well falling in love with you!" Harry shouted, only to gasp in shock at what left his mouth, he made to get away again, Green eyes searching for an exit, any Exit! Just to get away from the fool he had made of himself!

Love! Why the hell would he say it to Bruce's face?! Why say it now when he didn't even know where they—

"-arry. Harry!" Bruce shouted, hands grabbing both of the man's arms before he could even think of escaping again! Wild green eyes shook his desperately, already pushing at a hard chest, already falling in the same trap of denial that had gotten them in this position in the first place.

He didn't waste any time forcing Harry against the table, grip tight lest the wizard slip and disappear on him again, even if the first time was loosely with his blessing. Something he would tell anyone that he honestly regretted.

"It's the same for me too!" Bruce growled, the persona of Batman leaching into his voice in that moment, the shadow of his hair obscuring his eyes from Harry's view.

"Wha-?!"

"It's the same for me, Harry! Do you think it's easy feeling like this! Do you?!" Bruce was suddenly angry with this damn situation. Not this time! He wasn't going to let the wizard do this another time when they were so close! Not when it was right in their reach!

"You haunted my every waking dream when you were gone! The very thought that you could have lost yourself in the arms of another man—your ex, brought with it uncontrollable jealousy and so much rage!"

"Don't say that like this is my fault! I didn't ask for this, I didn't ask for you to—!" Harry fired back just as angrily, pushing against the arms that held him captive like damn weighted chains. He wasn't going to take—

"It isn't? Then whose fault is it, Harry? Whose fault is it?!" Bruce's whisper was a heated hiss against, Harry's ear. His heart beating wildly—tadup—tadup—tadup against the man's chest. When had they gotten so close? When had Bruce crowded him against this damn table that dogged so painfully into his back?

"Harry…I feel it too. This thing called love, I'm terrified because love… love doesn't exist in my world…but here we are…" Bruce voice was soft, trembling with such emotion.

"You don't know me." Harry whispered desperately, his hand gentle against Bruce's cheek, their lips so close… something so fierce rushing between them, boiling in their blood… Something wholly magnificent and terrifying in the same breath.

"I know you enough." It was a simple statement, but wasn't it true…pressed so closely together, the heat of this man, the powerful man leaching into his own body…

Wasn't it true?

Neither thought of it, hesitant, lips light tracing the other, wanting to make that final move but resisting …no waiting. Was this what they wanted, to become so enraptured with the other…to become puppets to their emotions.

Breaths deepened, throats dry…

Yes…it was what they wanted.

* * *

He didn't flinch when he was flung atop that bed, Bruce's figure following close after, cloaking him with his body, capturing his lips so desperate—so fierce. Skin dragged against skin, teeth biting into reddened flesh and blood raced like never before—hotter than before. Their chest heaved—a tension gripping tight like tensile wires—arching into that touch that he longed for, his shirt ripped from him.

Monster maybe—a beast he would not see tamed, would not see anywhere but upon his body, relinquishing him to the hold of desperate desire and burning fires. His skin tingled, his hips rolling—a slow torturous grind as he fought for that friction between them, large hands pulling at his buckle, pulling tight pants down long legs. He gasped when cold air hit his skin, when powerful hands bit into his thighs, parted them and revealed how much he wept for this man. He couldn't think, that slow trail…rising goosebumps, the shudder of his body as—right there!—right below—clenching vice, and hot breath was upon him.

It was dangerously close. Close enough that he closed eyes, toes curling as he gripped tightly to the pillow just behind him. He bit his lip, to keep it in! Keep those moans in as Bruce! Damn that Bruce—moved between his parted thighs—trembling thighs—a hot mouth against his quivering hole. His body twisted, bucking for every wave of pleasure up his spine, spreading from his groin, a tightness he couldn't understand, didn't want to understand!—as his nipples grew taught, the dusky skin sensitive to touch...a wet tongue maybe— a pinch and tweak from his own sweaty hands. That tongue was rough—wet—piercing him with abandon. Dragging him into the abyss he knew he would never again climb out of.

"Bruce!" he cried out, arched so beautifully.

"Bruce!" his breath hitched, and with it his need to breathe, a glorious suffocation he would endure as those hands clamped around him—strong—too strong as he was spread wide—forced to stay put, to keep himself open for this beast's hunger.

He held in the scream, his length twitching, he wanted release! Tittering over the edge but just couldn't—!

"Please—I-Please!" Harry cried out, hands digging into Bruce's scalp, a leg over powerful shoulders.

"St-Stop! Bruce I said-" It was sudden, that wave that took over him, how he twisted upon those sheets, desperately trying to clamp around—

"Are you sure?" Bruce's voice was rough, dangerous as brown eyes looked up at him. He the body that gasped for breath, still held taught…can't' fall over-reach it—super nova!

"Harry, are you sure!" A deep growl, so much wanting, so much restraint…muscles rippling to keep himself at bay and not give into the beast that was so willing to just _take_ -to _own_.

"What—are you—waiting for?" Harry taunted, even as he gasped for air, slick with sweat and hotter than ever. His eyes trailed Bruce's frame, a thing of wonder rippling muscles—chest heaving just as much as his own, that bead of sweat that rolled from his neck and traced every dip and curve.

"!" Harry screamed out, hands tearing at the sheets as Bruce pushed in, so heavy inside him. Arching right off the bed—wide—too wide!—stretching him to his limit—his walls greedily taking him in, locking around him like vice, even as that wide head pushed against that one spot that made him buck wildly, like seizures that just wouldn't stop!

Merlin! How right it felt…how right it could be—

He had no shame, sheet clenched between his teeth as he just _pushed_ down, taking all that this man was as his heavy balls slapped his reddening ass— _just_ —like that!

His legs crossed around the muscled back, moans, low a need-as Bruce moved within him. The drag of skin against skin. Wet. Taking from him all he was worth, deep- forever deep a burn and sting so good that he bit through the soft flesh of his lips. "Shit!" Bruce cursed, his hands digging into Harry's skin, thrust so powerful—no mercy as he sought to take all that was his—rightfully. As he gave all that belonged to Harry—always belonged to Harry—forever his.

He watched the man writhe atop silk sheets, how he jerked forward with each thrust that slap-slap-slap sound in tandem with the furious beat of both their racing hearts.

He bit back the growl as he roughly twisted Harry—paying no mind to the desperate cry as he held him on his hands and knees; plunging into him once more, a satisfaction when Harry arched so beautifully. Taking him deeper, biting the cloth of the pillow as his delicate hands twisted, tore more at his sheets. The slap of rounded cheeks— _full rounded_ _ass_ —spreading wide—obscene slick sound for every drag—every push. Stained red, angry red for the abuse…for his drive into a _tight_ body that would not so easily give.

Locked together like this, Harry's thin fingers digging into his scalp where his hand twisted behind him—pulling at his hair.

"He felt the burn tearing through his hardened flesh, how his muscles tightened how that monster inside him-roared with victory!

He wanted—wanted- _needed_!

"Harry—I _can't_!" Can't what! Can't' hold back—no! Not with his tight vice around him, not with Harry crying out so loudly so clear! Not when he clenched and grind, right into him. Giving as much as he got—a torture he bestowed right back!'

Forever fierce Bunny.

"Inside!—you can—inside! Bruce!" Harry clenched, pulled taught as every nerve fired as once, as he was blinded and something iron hot tore through his back. Bruce all but roared, bit into the supple skin of his shoulder, piercing skin as he himself grew aught, as his hand became a painful grip and pushed deeper than ever before. It was all he needed—Nirvana!—boshuana!—infinity! He jerked so powerfully, hot seed—seeping into his body—a sting—a burn—he wanted—he

"Bruce!" Harry cried out, screamed, bucking wildly—his vision spotted with colourful dots-flickering in and out. Bruce teeth dug into his shoulder as if to leave his mark, buried and locked dangerously deep as he pulsed inside him.

They would stay that like that for minutes, hours…they didn't know, or maybe it is that they didn't care. Sweat cooled on their skins, and the burns that hadn't set in for that moment raised their heads…curious…spiteful.

It didn't matter though, not when Bruce rolled them onto their sides, still locked together…just for little while longer. Even as hot seed managed to seep from the tight fit to smear his thighs. Nothing mattered, as he was wrapped up in strong arms, his neck pulsing for that deep bite—didn't matter as they exchanged soft kisses, endless kisses as bruised lips tingled and yearned for more. As tongues languidly danced as wet as ever…deep.

No…nothing mattered when they lay here like this…Bruce's steady heart a echoing drum through his back piercing his own heart…touching that place he may had once thought would forever be still.

Silent and still, the cold winds from an open balcony, the icy caress upon rumpled silk sheets.

* * *

_"_ _Roselle Allen. You have been found guilty under the charges of illegal possession of a level three lust potion. Undue usage of a level three lust potion on both a No-Maj and Wizard. Attempted sexual assault of a No-Maj through influence of a level three lust-_

_"_ _No! I wouldn't…I couldn't ever do that to Bruce. I love him!" Roselle shouted. She barely resembled the beautiful woman she once was. Skin and bones, red hair once so fiery and vibrant thin and coarse as straw. There was greyish pallor about her, dressed in the standard robes unique to Alcatraz wizarding prison, ripped and ragged. A position of her own making._

_"_ _-potion! Through the grace of our newest ally, you will be punished accordingly to your state, No-Maj. Your memory shall be stripped, all but those needed for you to survive and you will bear the curse of insignificance. You will be just another human that no one will care for, or recognise. Thirty years you will suffer this, or until a time you no longer think so selfishly. May we never see you grace Alcatraz ever again, No-Name; formerly Roselle Allen. No-Maj of Gotham city." Roselle pleaded for mercy, shouting and fighting her subduers as the very wizard who had captured her walked forward, a too pleasant smile on his face, tip of his wand glowing. She remembered him, oh how she remembered him! The man that would taunt her, drag his wand against the bar of her tiny cell, sparks flying._

_And wasn't that enough to plunge her into insanity! Wizards and magic and—and—creatures that would steal her soul with a kiss! It shouldn't have been frightening, living in the type of world she did, with heroes and alien invasions but—_

_"_ _I promise, I'll make sure Bruce knows how much you so desperately_ _**love** _ _him" Craven mocked, to serene as he pointed his wand at the woman's temple._

_"_ _Ut maldediceret tibi. With this I curse you—Obliviate!" He hissed, the last thing in her sight the looming image of a thousand robes—a_ _madman_ _that would steal her life._

Harry winced as he tenderly wrapped the fluffy white robe around his body, another layer to stave off the cold that threatened to seep into the core of his very being. Perhaps he should have waited before taking a bath, used hot water even…but his body had felt too hot and itchy. Halls below, the odd sound of a Spanish guitar echoed. A lovely sound, a soft melody that melded perfectly with the light shower of rain that playfully fell off the shingled roof.

Bruce shifted in his sleep, sprawled on his stomach, his muscled back for display, marked with deep claw marks he himself had made, his hand hanging over the side of the bed. One brown eye was open, just watching him, not saying a word.

"It looks light midnight, but it's actually 10'o clock. You should get up now!" Harry poked the man in the cheek, getting an annoyed slap for his efforts.

"Six more hours, Bunny." Bruce grunted, a small smirk on his lips as he closed his eye again, amused by the obvious glare he received. Harry could only roll his eyes before tightening his robe, making to leave…but before he could, a strong hand held unto his own.

"You should stay." Bruce muttered, obviously not all there, sleep a dangerous foe that not even the Batman could defeat. Huffing in amusement Harry sat on the side of the bed, the same hand that had held his arm, curling around his waist.

"I need to go downstairs, you don't have aspirin." Harry muttered, wincing at pain that trailed up his spine. The fact that Bruce would dare to laugh at him had Harry punching the man before standing with disgruntled, not before said man pulled him down for a light kiss.

"Come back to bed, Bunny." Harry could only shake his head, evading grabby hands as he made it outside the room, even with his slight limp. In the halls the guitar was much louder, as was the rain…a dog barking every now and again. He guessed they had finally gotten Damian that dog.

"Stop slobbering over me, dog!" the ten year old's voice carrying over the guitar and Tim's annoyed yet strangely amused rebuke.

"The dog has a name, Damian!"

Harry swallowed heavily, remembering how he had left things…how he had hurt those boys because he was stupid and afraid. How would he even face them? Would they even want to see him?

It seems that his thoughts betrayed him, because suddenly the music stopped—silence—three pairs of eyes trained on his figure. Yes…three, because someone new was laid across the sofa, guitar in hand as his fingers paused against the beautiful instrument. He was much older than the two he was used to, but blue eyes so similar to Tim, and this air about him that was equal parts Bruce, Damian, Tim…and something that perhaps was unique only to him.

This…this must have been Dick.

There was an uncomfortable silence for just a moment, the dog—a large magnificent animal whimpering lightly, his ears flickering back and forth.

"I'm…back." It was a useless statement, awkward and even unsure as no one made a move, Damian hands clenching.

He was going to say something. Anything, but the words just wouldn't leave his lips. Before he could so much as make up his mind, return upstairs and wonder just how he would get through to the children who would have thought he had abandoned them—two bodies collided with his own, almost casing him to stumble and fall as hands like vice wrapped around him.

"Two months! You went away for two month, commoner! I did not allow that!" Damian muttered, his face buried into Harry's white robe.

"For once I agree with, cheese brain!" Tim's voice trembled, his grip just as tight. Harry hesitated for moment, overwhelmed…he expected them to hate him…it's what he would have done when he was younger. When he was just silly, little Harry Potter with the world on his head.

He held them tight, expressing how sorry he was, letting them feel his true sincerity, asking for their forgiveness if they would have him.

"I'm so, so sorry."

"You had dad moping around like an idiot and charity case bawled like some baby when you were gone!" Damian muttered.

"Not as much as you when Dick nearly broke that clip Harry gave you!" Tim fired back, both glaring at the other in Harry's arms. Some things just wouldn't change.

"Grayson shouldn't have touched it to begin with!" Damian hissed, he would have gone further if not for the protest from said man.

"Hey! I'm right here you guys!" Dick mocked glared, hand folded across his chest as he walked up to the three. He had been watching them the moment the older man had stepped in, watching as they held back…how his brother's eyes widened when it seemed the man would leave without saying a word. He would have intervened, but it seemed he wouldn't have to. He would reserve judgement on Harry for a while, he didn't really know the man…he just knew that he was the one that actually made his brother's cry. But…he was also the one who made it possible for them to express their emotions so freely…

"Right, I'm Richard. The oldest one out of this sorry bunch. Call me Dick though, all my friend's call me that." Dick grinned, holding his hand out in a friendly gesture.

"Harry. Alfred's mock replacement for the foreseeable future." Harry drawled, getting a laugh out of the older teen.

"He's a little bit more than that." Bruce smirked, entering the room with a towel thrown over his shoulder, eyes set on the visible bruise he had left on Harry's neck. It of course brought the boys' attention, Tim blushing furiously, Damian glaring and Dick laughing as if it was the best joke he had gotten all year!

"You're disgusting father!" Damian hissed, pointedly holding tighter to Harry as he glared down his father, Tim the idiot still spluttering in the background and Dick just being stupid Dick like he always was!

"So does that mean I should call you mommy?" Dick hollered, holding his stomach tight, almost pitching over in laughter. He didn't realize the oncoming danger that was the famous deathly glare, or the vindictive glee in Damian's eyes as he watched the events unfold.

"Call me mommy, and watch me transfigure you into a loathsome little cockroach!" Harry hissed, wand out as he made a dangerous step forward. Dick suddenly realized the danger, sheepishly smiling as he backed away, blue eyes seeking out the amused brown of his father for just a _little_ help.

"Now—now bunny, you've only been back for so long, don't try to kill yet another one of our children." Bruce, smirked jot even flinching when those green eyes glared at him. Why would he flinch, when he remembered how merely hours ago they were wrapped up in each other's arms, where they were so intertwined you couldn't quite tell where one began and ended. They still had much to talk about, to do...a true deep relationship wasn't just built in one day or a few months...they had time.

"Hey, you know what makes everything—"

"Grayson don't you dare!" Both Tim and Damian growled, trying desperately to scamper behind Harry and just hide from the manic that was there older brother. Curse the day he said he was coming for a visit!

"—better? Group hug!" Dick crowed as if the boys hadn't protested vehemently in light of what he was about to do, swooping in on the group. Harry's green eyes widened—terrified as the two boys cowered behind him— he himself trying to escape behind Bruce. They didn't escape, far from it—all tumbling and falling to the floor on top of a less than amused Bruce as Richard proceeded to hug the life out of them.

"Get off me Grayson!"

"Curse you brain dead idiot!"

"Bruce, get your bloody brat off of me! What are you mixed with—the bloody giant squid!"

"Richard, stop this instant or I will ground you for all you're worth!"

Alfred said not a word as he walked in on the odd jumbled heap on the floor, limbs twisted together as Dick acted like some strange fungus, wriggling about the pile. Ace, their dog, the newly acquired member of their family barked happily, running around the heap with a happily twitching tail.

"When you're done, Harry. Your lecturer called, he seemed most impressed with your last project, especially since you got it done overseas. He wished to talk to you about a possible chance to fast track through your program…I hear a job offer is also on the table." Alfred drawled, fixing the cloth over his hand as he left, his acne tapping lightly down the hall.

"This is your fault, Bruce! You raised these hellions!"

"Bunny, I doubt this is the time to be arguing! Just help me get him _off_!"

Alfred laughed, dusting lightly at his shoulders as he stopped before the portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne. They seemed so serene…at peace, they would have loved this…the new atmosphere in the manor.

"He's going to be alright, just like I promised. Our dear Harry will sort them all out…he's a fine young man you see." With that he continued on his way, not even flinching as a vase broke in the distance, furious cries of—

"Dick!"

—echoing down the halls.

Who said there was no point?

Who said dreams were but fleeting things…all you had to do was take a leap of fate.

Just let us dream…and be well…

The Bunny and the Shark…an odd pair…but a pair nonetheless.


End file.
